


Dumbledore's Last Request

by Krummbein



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Complete, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, F/M, Falling In Love, Good Draco Malfoy, Horcrux Hunting, POV Alternating, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Harry Potter, POV Hermione Granger, POV Second Person, The author is French
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:41:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 61,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22269595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krummbein/pseuds/Krummbein
Summary: In the middle of the night, Severus Snape appears at Hermione's house, with Draco Malfoy at his side. Why are they asking for her help, if they are her enemies? [VERSION FRANCAISE EN COURS, JE COMMENCERAI A POSTER ENTRE MARS ET AVRIL]
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 122
Kudos: 330





	1. The Vow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there, it's me again!
> 
> I've been working on this fic since October and now that I have more than 5 chapters, I decided to post the first one to see if somebody liked it and if I should continue to write it or focus on my main fic (in French for now, I'll try to translate it one day. But not now. I hate translation. But I still wanna do it.)
> 
> So pleaaaase comment and tell me your first impressions. I'm particularly proud of the first paragraph (because hey, me writing in English you know?), but I know that there are some mistakes. Don't feel bad for telling me, sometimes I mix expressions, even words that sound the same!
> 
> Ps: I don't know how to find a beta. If you want to help me please contact me at krummbeinmaghermine@gmail.com and tell me you've sent an e-mail :)

They apparated out of nowhere, the sound of a faint _pop_ reverbing through the thin air. The two silhouettes stood, alert, before relaxing for a few seconds when they had the conviction that nobody had seen them. They were two men, one young and one middle-aged. They wore similar expressions – _fear_ – but couldn’t have look more different. The younger one was tall, slender and, despite his haunted look and hollowed cheeks, still spectacularly beautiful. He hastily repositioned his hood, and a silvery flash caught the eye of his companion.

“Careful you idiot boy, you cannot be seen!”

The second man’s breath was irregular and his cold black eyes were darting in all directions, looking for someone or something that could threaten them. When nothing came, he felt his heart slow down from its hectic pace. His right hand came to his face and he wiped off the sweat that was coming from his forehead, before trying to replace the greasy black hairs framing his face.

“Where to?” asked the blond one. He glanced around, unsure of his surroundings.

“It should be nearby, I have the address here,” said the second one. He put his hand into a pocket of his robes and a few seconds later, they were looking at a piece of parchment covered in thin, slanting writing. The black-haired man looked around and hastily began to walk in a direction only known by himself.

“This way”.

The boy wrapped his cloak tighter to his side and tried his best to stay calm. He quickly followed his elder partner before grimacing when he felt his body protest at the effort. He knew he was weakened by weeks of a drastic diet and months of constant fear but he had not thought it would be that bad. His head was pounding, his steps unsteady and he was desperate for food.

They were walking faster now, and he knew they must be nearing their destination. He looked expectantly, trying to guess which of the houses it could be. Despite the night, the area was illuminated and he could see that it was a well-off neighbourhood. Maybe it would be alright, he thought, maybe he had a slight chance after all. But he also knew he should not expect too much, and a slight chance was already too much for someone like him.

“It’s this house,” murmured the man in front of him. He had stopped, two or three meters from the entry, and seemed to be thinking. The boy came nearer and felt something buzzing around him.

“Wards,” he stated. “And you’ve activated them.”

“Yes,” answered the elder one. “I’m not surprised, given the time we live in.”

“How long do you think she will take?” He was nervous, and not sure he wanted to be there anymore.

“Not long, she must be thinking we are _them_.”

“Well,” and his tone was clearly ironic when he replied, “we _are_ them, and I doubt she will welcome us after our last encounter.”

“She will have no choice”, the black-haired man replied, “not when she hears what I have to say.”

“How can you be sure she will want to?” Fear was piercing through his voice now, and he blamed himself for his lack of self-control.

The sound of a door clicking made them stop their conversation, and they waited for her to come out of the house. She was wearing some sort of girly pyjamas and her hair looked disastrous. They must have awakened her, and the blond boy prayed that it would not impact her mood too much. She advanced slowly; her wand firmly pointed in front of her.

“Wands out, and drop the hoods”, she said, wondering who could come this late to her house. Had something happened to Harry?

The two companions looked at each other and put their wands out of their inner robes before uncovering their heads. They heard her gasp.

“What the _FUCK_ are you doing here?” she hissed. Before they could even answer, she had disarmed them both. They had not opposed any resistance, it would not look good if they wanted her to cooperate.

“Miss Granger,” began the older man, but she stopped him, clearly angered by their presence only a few meters from her home.

“Don’t Miss Granger me, Snape, you lost this right and every other you had after you betrayed and killed Dumbledore like the _fucking bastard you really are_.”

“Granger.”

The girl slightly turned her head to look at the other intruder. He wasn’t sure why he said her name, or why he said anything at all. Every fibre of his body was telling him this was exactly what he should _not_ be doing but he continued anyway.

“Granger, _please_ just hear us out.” He had emphasized the please, as if he thought it would help.

“Please, really Malfoy? _You_ are asking _me_ to listen to whatever bullshit you came up with? Why should I even speak to you, when you were the one that let them come into Hogwarts?”

Her entire body was shaking, and she looked like she was going to cry.

“Now, because of _both_ _of you_ , Dumbledore is no longer here to help protect us… He too, said PLEASE”, she cried in the direction of the older man, “and you still killed him. You were supposed to be his ally, his _friend_. To think that I defended you, _both of you_ to Harry and Ron, saying that you were not like that. That _you_ ," she said glaring at Malfoy, “were too young and not stupid enough to be a Death Eater”. She did not pause, incapable of stopping the flow of words coming from her mouth. “And _you_ , I said we needed to have faith in you, because _Dumbledore_ _trusted you_. But I was wrong, was I? Hermione Granger, Brightest Witch of her Age, my ass.”

Severus Snape suddenly seemed to have enough and silenced her, with wandless magic.

“For once in your life Miss Granger, do shut up.” Draco Malfoy almost laughed. Almost. “Now you are going to let us come in, and then listen to what we have to say,” continued the former professor.

She looked at him, her face contorted with rage, and sharply nodded before moving her head in the direction of the door. If she could be silenced when he was not in possession of his wand, who knew what else he could do. Luckily, she might be able to send a message to the Order before things escalated.

With some apprehension, Draco crossed the wooden door and walked slowly through the long corridor, trying to find where they were supposed to go.

“To your left, Malfoy.” The voice was sharp, and it seemed that she had been able to wordlessly counter the spell she had been targeted with. He opened the door and walked in a large living room with a beautiful piano displayed at its centre. He briefly wondered if she could play it before turning around to see her coming near them.

“Sit,” she said, indicating a couch before sitting herself on the sofa facing it. They obeyed, and Draco tried not to look uneasy. He was in a muggle area, sitting in a muggle house, and about to ask a very delicate service to a very upset Muggleborn. He hoped she would be quick if she decided to kill them.

She lifted her wand and wordlessly casted a privacy charm around them.

“You have exactly five minutes to tell me how you found my home, and to convince me not to send the message I just wrote to the Order.”

Snape looked surprised by her declaration and spotted something golden in her hand.

“Galleon with a Protean charm?” he asked, smirking. Dumbledore had told him about them last year, and he had been impressed by her idea. She did not answer but frowned, as if she wanted to tell him he might not want to lose the time she was generously giving him. 

“Dumbledore.”

He had almost not moved his lips but the name was pretty clear.

“What about Dumbledore?” she asked, rashly.

“You asked me two questions. The answer to both of them is Dumbledore,” said Snape, his cold voice giving her goosebumps. She tightened her grip on her wand.

“Are you trying to convince me that Dumbledore gave you my address?” she said, looking abashed.

“Yes.”

“And why, pray say, did he?” she sounded outraged, and Draco wondered how long it would take her before sending her message.

“That’s easy. He wanted you to help me and, by extension, help Mister Malfoy here.”

She said nothing for a few seconds, trying to process what she had just heard. When she spoke, her voice had grown harder.

“Gods, and I thought you were intelligent enough to find a plausible explanation. But this wow… this is really disgusting.” She paused, unsure about what she was feeling. “You really thought I would buy it? You, trying to soften me with the memory of the man you murdered?”

“I-did-not-murder-him,” he said through his teeth.

“Really? Then Harry really must change his glasses, don’t you think?” she asked with a false cheery voice, “because from what he told me from that night, it looked very much like you _did_.”

Snape made a movement in the direction of his robes, but Hermione was faster and quickly immobilized him before taking the object he had tried to extract. She looked at the tiny bottle of colourless liquid.

“Veritaserum?” it sounded like a question but by the way she had said it, it seems that she had recognized the potion and was wondering why he had brought it here. She lifted the spell, and waited for his answer.

“Indeed.”

“Did you plan to use it on me?” she asked again, this time sounding angry.

“On the contrary, Miss Granger. I want you to use it on both of us, after I give you _my_ version of the recent events.”

For the second time of the night, Hermione Granger took a few minutes to study what she had just heard. What were they really doing here, at that time of the night, if not to attack her? Why did Snape look so nervous? And why did Malfoy look worse than a few weeks before, when he had had enough time to recover his health? She sat herself more comfortably and looked at her old professor, indicating she was ready to hear more. Snape took a sharp breath and began.

“I did _not_ murder Albus Dumbledore. I just granted him the death he asked from me.”

Draco Malfoy coughed nervously and looked at his companion. Not the best way to start this conversation, he thought, and apparently Granger agreed with him.

“Excuse m…” she began, but he stopped her.

“Almost a year ago, Dumbledore came to me after having crossed the path of a highly dark artefact. A ring, to be precise.” He waited for her to understand what he meant before continuing. He knew that Potter had talked to her and almost saw the information sink into her brain. “Too eager in his quest, he had not seen the last curse and made the mistake to try destroying it.”

She nodded, thinking aloud.

“So that’s why his hand…”

“… looked as if it was dead, yes. In fact, it was. I tried my best to stop the curse from spreading but it was too late, and Dumbledore asked me how long he had before dying from it. One year was the best we could hope for, the curse being one strengthening over time.”

Hermione felt her eyes beginning to water but forced herself to stay focused.

“It was the same day that we began speaking of Mister Malfoy, and more specifically the tasks Voldemort had granted him. From the beginning, I knew that Draco was supposed to fail and that this was only a punishment for Lucius’s lack of success at the Ministry. He would try throughout the year, lose his health and mind to the task and, when it would be certain that he had not been able to perform what was required of him, Voldemort would kill him in front of his own parents.”

Draco felt her gaze surveying him and did his best to avoid looking into her eyes.

“Could you not refuse? Or ask for another task to… redeem your family, even if you knew it was a punishment for your father’s mistakes?”

“You don’t say no to the Dark Lord, Granger.” he told her, his voice colder than ice, “especially when he tells you, just one week after his fucking snake has bitten a man to death in your living room, that your mother is going to be his hostage until you succeed.”

He was happy to see that she now looked slightly ill.

“So, if I get it right, Dumbledore asked you to kill him instead of Malfoy doing it?”

Snape nodded and waited for the next question.

“Why?”

“He thought that Mister Malfoy was too young, too innocent to risk his soul for an old man like him. And he also thought he was not a killer and would be reluctant to perform his task, even if he had the occasion.”

She turned her head slightly to see Draco better, remembering what her friend had told her.

“He saw you lower your wand; you know? Harry, I mean.”

He knew she was talking to him, but suddenly decided it would be best if he stared indefinitely at the ground. Knowing he would not answer, she brought her gaze back to the older man.

Hermione could not determine what the best course of action was. On the one hand, she wanted them out of her house as soon as possible. Her parents were defenceless, and she knew for sure that Snape was a better fighter than herself. If they wanted her dead, she would only have a few seconds to act, send the message to the Order and pray they would come fast enough to save her family. On the other hand, his arguments could explain some of the events, and _something_ made her want to know if he was saying the truth. She played a few minutes with a strand of her hairs, trying to find a solution, before giving her answer.

“I accept to test you with Veritaserum. But on one condition.” They stared at her, expectantly. “You take one I brew myself.”

They only waited a few seconds before accepting her proposition, and she summoned a small vial in her hand, before adding a few drops in the glasses of water she had just given them.

“You should be fine with that, it’s not powerful enough to confuse you. Shall we begin, then?”

“Whenever you are ready,” said Snape.

“Very well.” She cleared her throat, and asked her first question, loudly and intelligibly.

“Are you Severus Snape, teacher at Hogwarts?”

“I am.”

Even if she was almost sure of it, hearing it said aloud made her feel better.

“When we last met, you were still a spy for the Order of the Phoenix, what are you now? What do you exactly want?”

“No longer a spy, because nobody will accept my services, but still wanting to bring the Dark Lord down.”

His voice was softer than what she was accustomed to, and she wondered if it was his real one or just an effect of the potion.

“Do you have any reason to want that?”

He blushed slightly, before answering in a murmur. “He killed the woman I loved.”

Draco raised his head abruptly and Hermione looked at the man before her, confused, before deciding not to push the subject further.

“You’ve told me your side of the story. Is everything you said true?”

“It is.”

She paused. He could not lie, of that she was sure.

“Why are you here now?”

“To ask you for your help.”

“What kind of help? Is it something about Malfoy here?” She hoped that not, but it now seemed unavoidable. “Something about Dumbledore telling you to come find me?”

“Yes. Before _that_ night, Dumbledore and I decided that it would not be safe for Malfoy to come back to the Manor, even in case of success. He gave me your address and told me to bring him to you so that he could be protected from the Dark Lord. He said you would not come back to school and was sure you would go hunt the remaining Horcruxes…” Hermione paled visibly, but did not stop him. “So, after I killed Dumbledore, I faked my Godson’s death in front of the other Death Eaters and sent him to a safe house Dumbledore had told me about. I left him there until I thought it was safe enough for me to come. So tonight, I decided it was time to act before it was too late.”

“You know about the Horcruxes…?”

“I do. Not a lot, but enough to know what your task will entail.”

“And Dumbledore wanted you to bring Malfoy to me?”

“He did.”

“While knowing that I, but also Harry and Ron, would go chase after some parts of Voldemort’s soul?”

She did not notice Draco’s flinch when she mentioned the last part of her sentence.

“Correct.”

“He wanted us, four enemies, to make peace after years of insults, threats and harassment and help save the Wizarding world?”

“From what I understand, yes.”

“He really was barmy in his old age, was he not?” she asked, almost jokingly.

Draco raised a brow at the comment but thought she had just made a valid point. There was no way it would work. She would not accept, no more than The-Git-Who-Lived and Ginger-Head would. He was doomed.

“And why should I help?” she asked.

“I am closely monitored and soon I won’t be able to bring him food anymore without raising suspicion. I cannot send an elf from the Manor and I don’t own one. And I cannot let him hide in the Muggle word because _obviously_ , he would not survive a day.” Draco snorted, feeling a bit offended. “I have no way of knowing how long the conflict will be. And I know for sure that my Godson won’t last long if I cannot give him enough supplies to survive. The safe place was supposed to shelter him only for a few weeks. It seems that Dumbledore was sure that you and your friends would accept his presence.”

She turned to face Draco and this time, he felt compelled to look at her. She seemed to be thinking and he recognized the way she was biting her lips. She was hesitating.

“Malfoy…” she kept glancing at the door, as if looking for a possible issue. Or had she called for reinforcement? He could not be sure. “Do you regret what happened last year?”

Draco swallowed nervously, feeling the potion taking control of his mouth.

“That, and so much more Granger.”

She looked at him quizzically.

“What do you mean, so much more?”

He really did not want to elaborate, but the truth serum forced him to share his feelings.

“I regret admiring my father for so long. I regret wanting to be like him when I would be older. I regret not questioning the beliefs I was raised with sooner. I regret not finding out the truth about the Dark Lord while I could still run. I regret thinking that becoming a Death Eater would be my life’s achievement. I regret knowing that my mother now thinks I’m dead. And finally, I regret tormenting you and the other Muggle-borns for all those years, because now I see that I was wrong but it is too late to ask for your forgiveness. Still, Granger. I apologize for my behaviour.”

She did not answer to his speech and stayed silent, longer than before. Then, in a small voice, she said:

“It’s never too late, Malfoy. And…” she sighed deeply, before saying almost reluctantly “… and I accept your apology.”

He stared at her, astonished by her reaction. He tried to speak, but no sound came from his mouth.

Hermione let her head fall in her hands. She had to refuse. She really, really had to refuse. But why did she feel compelled to help him? He had been nothing but horrible to her, and even if he said he was sorry – and because of the Truth Serum, she knew he was – she wasn’t sure she could forgive him. _But after all_ , she thought, _was it really his fault_? He could not choose the family he lived in, and the way his parents raised him. In a way, he was like her, Harry or Ron: just a child, who had been forced to take part in a war he could not fully understand. She sighted. She had made her choice long before she even knew it.

“If I help you”, she asked, looking directly at him, “will you willingly make a Vow to me, promising to help us find and destroy the Horcruxes and try to protect us if we are in any kind of danger?”

“I will.” There was no hesitation in his voice, and he was looking at her intensely now.

She seemed satisfied with his answer, and got up, asking them to do the same.

“The effects should last another five minutes. We’ll wait until they wear off.”

She busied herself by putting the glasses in the dishwasher before coming back in the living room. Neither of them had moved.

"Any effects left?" she asked Rogue, and he shook his head.

“Are you ready to take the Vow, Malfoy?” He nodded. “Sn… professor. Can you be our bonder?”

The black-haired man came nearer and asked them to hold their hands. Draco took hers without hesitation. Hermione gave Snape his wand back and spoke.

“Will you, Draco Malfoy, help me and my friend get rid of the remaining Horcruxes in order to kill Voldemort?”

“I will,” said Draco.

They both looked at each other when a thin tongue of flame came around their hands. She spoke again, and this time her voice sounded more confident.

“And will you, to the best of your ability, protect us from harm, even from members of your own family?”

He swallowed hard.

“I will.”

Another flame came from Snape’s wand, interlinking with the first one.

“And will you, if I or my friend die, continue to fight against Voldemort until his or your death?”

This time, she noticed his hesitation.

“… I will.”

The third flame joined the other two and bound themselves around their hands, sinking into their flesh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for now!  
> I'm not sure when I will post the 2nd chapter, I need to read it at least 5 more times just in case!  
> Please leave a comment (or kudos, or both) and suscribe ;)
> 
> Love,  
> Krummbein


	2. Thank you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And good day to you!
> 
> I've read that chapter three more times (and found some terrible mistakes, what a shame) but I think it's time I post it!
> 
> I'd like to wait more between two chapters, but at the same time I want to know what you think x)
> 
> Thanks for the comments and the kudos on the last chapter, please continue!
> 
> As I've said before, no beta :( If you want to help me (and remind me how bad my English is) please contact me at krummbeinmaghermine@gmail.com and tell me you've sent an e-mail :)

He stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep, and glanced at her muggle clock. Too early to get up, especially in a strange house whose owners did not know of your presence. He shifted under his blanket and watched his surroundings. Definitely muggle. From where he was – on the floor, on a mattress she had transfigured before going to sleep – he saw most of the room.

He had asked – very politely – if he could have his own bedroom, arguing that a gentleman like him should not accept to sleep in the same room as a lady. She had laughed hard – maybe because hearing him call her a lady was funny – and told him that her parents would not really appreciate to find a stranger, and more specifically, _a boy_ , in the spare room they used as a small office. He had wanted to point to the fact that finding a boy in _her_ bedroom was worse but she had silenced him and given him a spare blanket. So, he had backed down and watched as she moved her things to make some space for him. He did not own a lot, at least not anymore. A large cloak, reinforced with warming charms, where he had put the last galleons he had received the week before he left school. Two sets of spare clothes, and the ones he wore the day he flew away. Snape had been able to take the clothes from his wardrobe before coming and he was grateful for that. Wearing the same underwear for weeks was something he hoped he would never experience again.

Bored, he tried to guess what the large device on her desk was. There seemed to be three parts, one big box with a dark window – maybe some kind of Pensieve? – one long rectangle he could not really see and another box, this time directly placed on the floor.

A purr interrupted his thoughts, and the huge orange beast Granger called a cat sprung from her bed before coming near him. The cat watched him for a long time, as if trying to know whether he was trustworthy or not, and suddenly began to rub his head against him. Confused, Draco tried to pet him, and the cat jumped on his chest, purring louder.

That’s how Hermione found them a few hours later, just after she had been awoken by her father’s whistle. She yawned – she had not slept enough at all because of the events of the night – and took a few moments to study the situation. Draco Malfoy – her very own bully – was in her room, sleeping with _her_ cat on his chest. What a weird day it was going to be.

“Malfoy.”

He did not move, still very asleep, and she decided to shake him a little. _Ew, touching Malfoy_ , she thought, a little bit repelled.

“ _Malfoy_ , time to get up!”

He shifted, growling.

“…”

“I can’t hear you, Malfoy”

“’time isit?”

“Early, but my parents are awake and I need to tell them about you.”

He shot his eyes open and sat on his mattress, owning a hiss from Crookshank.

“Fuck.”

“You should be nicer to Crooks”, said Hermione, “he likes you so you should not upset him.”

“And why not?”

“He let you pet him. That’s only the second time I see him do that, the first was with Sirius. Even my parents are not always allowed to touch him. He scratched Ron when he tried to, and nobody accepted to come near him after that.”

“I like that cat,” answered Draco, smirking in Crookshank’s direction. Hermione rolled her eyes at his statement.

“Stay here while I go talk to my parents,” she told him, jumping from her bed. “I’ll call you.”

“Great.” He felt his courage leave him. How would they react, knowing he was the one that had tormented her for years?

* * *

Hermione slowly went down the stairs and sniffed happily. Pancakes. Her mother saw her and smiled.

“Good morning darling. Did you sleep well? You look tired.”

“Well, I am,” she said while walking to the table where her father was brewing a pot of tea. “I had a late visit last night.”

“A visit,” asked her mother, “from whom?”

“One of my teachers. And a… a guy from my school”.

“Really?” Her father was now pouring the tea in his bowl. “And why did they come when we were asleep?”

“Well,” said Hermione rocking back and forth on her feet, “professor Snape said that Malfoy had some… issues at home and that he needed a shelter for a few weeks so he asked if I had a spare room for him.”

Her father looked up and her mother stopped eating her pancake.

“But… Why here? I mean there must be some other place, with his family or even in your school?” her father was frowning while her mother spoke.

“Not… really?” she answered, not sounding sure about what she had just said. “His parent cannot know where he is. Actually, nobody can.”

“Hermione,” her father started, “why do I have the feeling that there is more?”

She sighted. Lying was really bad, but lying for years was worse. She was going to regret letting Malfoy stay at her house.

“You can come in, Malfoy…”

Her voice was tired and he hurried to the kitchen where she was waiting. He stayed at the door, unsure about what to do.

“Mum, dad, that’s Malfoy. I mean… Draco.”

He was so nervous he did not realize she had used his given name.

“Hum. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Granger, Mr. Granger.”

If her parents were shocked by his formal introduction, they said nothing and nodded in his direction. Hermione saw her father’s jaws clenched while studying the stranger in front of him. That was the first boy she had ever had in her house, and the reason for his presence was still unclear to him. _Great_.

“Never heard of you before, boy,” her father said, and she knew he meant that his opinion of him was not good at the moment.

“Well,” cut Hermione before he said something worse, “that’s because we’re not in the same house. We don’t interact much.”

“Yes, I remember,” said her mother. “I always thought it was a bit weird to make an old hat say who was supposed to go where. Once it chooses you are labelled for the rest of your life. Like the snake one’s…”

“Slytherins,” Hermione supplied.

“… yes. Because that stupid hat said they belonged to that house, does that mean they are all evil and mean like you said? Or are they just acting like this because it’s what people expect from them?”

Draco looked at Mrs. Granger, his attention perked by her statement. Slytherins were indeed hated by the entire school, most of the teachers included. That did not really help them to question their beliefs, on the contrary. It only fuelled them.

“I think the hat is not what we should worry about at the moment,” intervened Mr. Granger, still glaring daggers at Draco.

“You’re right, dad. I think it should be better if we go to the living room. I have a lot to tell you.”

* * *

“So basically, what you’re saying is that you lied to us for years?” her father sounded furious. Her mother did not say anything, but she could tell she was disappointed.

“I’d rather say that I omitted some facts,” she said tentatively.

“An immortal madman has been trying to kill Harry since your first year. An incompetent teacher tried to erase the memories of your friends, before one of them fought against a giant snake and was miraculously saved from a very deadly bite. You then had a werewolf as a teacher and he almost bit you, just after you met a man who was supposed to be a murderer and another one who had killed more than ten innocents. The same man _slept next to a young boy for years, transformed into a rat_. You fought in a battle against seasoned killers and you were badly injured. The Headmaster was _murdered by one of the teachers_ , after your _friend_ here tried to assassinate him for a year and almost killed two other students in the process. And now you tell me you want to go on a so-called quest with _three teenage boys_ to find and destroy _soul pieces_ who can be protected by _deadly curses_?”

“It was not that bad,” she answered, but her voice was clearly lacking conviction.

“Yes, it was, and it still is. I knew we should have taken you out of that school. In fact, we should have never allowed you to come back after you had been petrified.”

“See,” she shouted angrily, “this reaction is exactly _why_ I told you nothing! I belong to this world, dad! Don’t you understand what it means to me? Why do I need to help Harry? Don’t you remember how it was before? For the first time in my life I have friends and I’m accepted as the real me!”

“That’s not what his kind says,” he told her, eyeing Draco. “ _They_ do not want you in their world!”

“They are just a minority dad, I’m sure you too know some racist who thinks black people should not have the same rights as white people.”

Draco almost said aloud that it was stupid to judge people because of their skin colour before remembering that _he_ had judged people because of their ancestors.

“A minority led by a powerful man who can almost not die. And I still don’t like the fact that you told us nothing for years and that you were about to do the same now. How do you think we would have reacted if you suddenly stopped writing?”

She flinched at his voice and tried to think of the best way to phrase what she had to say.

“That’s the thing, dad,” she began, her voice suddenly weaker. “None of you would have known I was not at school.”

“And how? By asking one of your friends to write for you?”

“I… you would not have remembered me, dad.”

Her parents were not fully understanding what she meant, but she saw Malfoy’s lips open slightly in shock. She glared at him angrily. It was his fault.

“You see, Voldemort’s followers have started attacking muggles and people with muggle background,” she began, her voice higher than usual, “and there is a _very_ high chance that they will be coming here once he has access to Hogwarts’ files about the students.” She paused, trying to breath normally. “For as long as it was necessary, I would have taken all your memories from me and given you new identities.”

“YOU WOULD HAVE WHAT?” her father was shouting and she tried not to look too guilty.

“It would have been to protect you! You have no idea what they do to Muggles! They would have tortured you for hours before killing you! I saw Neville’s parents two years ago; they cannot speak anymore and do not eve, remember their own son.”

It was Draco’s turn to feel bad. His aunt was the reason for their permanent stay in St Mungo and, after a few times under the cruciatus curse himself, he knew he could not even wish for the Weasel to feel that kind of pain.

“She’s right, you know?” he said, and she looked at him, surprised to hear him defend her position. “He asked about you the last time I saw him. To me first, and then to Snape. I did not have a lot to say to be honest, I’m not Potter or Weasley. But he knows you are important to Potter because of your intelligence, and it’s only a matter of time before he knows where you live.” He looked at the Grangers. “You have to leave while you still can. It won’t be easy but trust me, you don’t want to be interrogated by Bellatrix. Or the Dark Lord himself.”

“What would you know about it?” snapped her father.

“Death Eater, remember? I was personally trained by Bellatrix last summer, and the Dark Lord had Snape bring me twice at the Manor to ask me about my task. Let’s just say that because I’m family, dear Auntie Bella did not toy with me like she usually does, but the Dark Lord was less comprehensive.” He rolled up his sleeve where he had his mark and they could see that it looked infected. The edges were red and swollen, and he flinched a little when he rerolled his shirt.

“During our last encounter he cursed it and told me that it would become more and more painful until I was done with the cabinet. He stopped the curse after I told my Father that the device could be used. Snape got me something to reduce the swelling but said I would have to wait another month to move my arm like I did before.”

Hermione’s mother seemed about to faint.

“They _tortured you_? Your own family? When you were just sixteen?”

“Yes”, he shrugged, “but I was lucky enough that Bella likes me and that I am younger than most. The Dark Lord was merciful but he told me he would be less lenient for my Father. And indeed, he was.”

He tried to think of something else than his father miserably hanging from the ceiling, covered in his own blood. Sectumsepra seemed nice compared to that, at least you could die fast.

Mrs. Granger spoke again. “So, you think we should accept Hermione’s offer. Forget what we know, leave everything behind?”

“Yes. Memory charms are tricky but I’m sure your daughter already knows everything about them.” He shot a glance in her direction, and she nodded. “I understand it can seem a bit extreme but if they find you – and they already have spies on the continent – they will torture you. The less you remember, the better it is for you.”

“And how will you do that?” asked her father sharply. “How can you erase all of our memories and then give them back to us?”

Hermione nervously glanced at Malfoy, seemingly trying to find some support before answering.

“I spoke with a specialist at St Mungo about professor Lockhart who is affected by a badly performed memory charm,” she began, “and the best way would be to remove your memories and keep them somewhere safe until you need them back. Creating a new identity won’t be a problem, and I can easily forge some papers for you.”

“I don’t really like that plan…” continued her father. “If we move far enough, in Australia for example, don’t you think it will suffice?”

“I don’t want to take any risk, dad…” she responded miserably “… what if they find you and kill you to destabilize me? I love you, I really do, and I don’t want to spend the rest of my life knowing that I was the reason you are dead.”

His face softened a bit but he did not respond. He took his wife’s hand and looked at her before turning to his daughter again.

“I think you gave us a lot to discuss, pumpkin. I don’t like the situation you’re in, and the fact that you willingly lied to us for years. But your mother and I will think about what you said and I promise we will try our best to come up with a solution to this… issue. We’ll talk about it at the end of the week if that’s ok for you.”

Hermione smiled, and crossed the room to embrace her parents.

Draco watched the scene in front of him, amazed to see such a display of affection. His parents had proved him their love in their own way but showing your feelings so openly was not well seen in the Pureblood society. He heard someone say his name and looked up. Granger was there, looking very serious.

“Look Malfoy, I know we’ve had our differences but I think it would be best if we put our past behind us. I won’t say that I like you but I’m willing to make an effort if you do the same.”

He shrugged. “Sure, you’re in charge Granger.”

She smirked. “Good to know. Now stand up and come, they’re waiting for us,” she told him.

“Granger?” Hermione turned around. Draco had not moved and looked at the floor, _again_.

“Yes?”

“I… thank you. I mean, for letting me stay, and the rest. Willing to take a new start, that sort of thing.”

She said nothing, but he saw a little smile playing on her lips before she turned and entered the kitchen.

“Come, breakfast is already cold.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all for today!
> 
> I really wanted Hermione's parents to know the situation, and I find it plausible that she "omitted" most of what happened during school years. When I read the books, I had the feeling that the had grown appart. Is it because she felt more confortable in her "real" world, or because she wanted to avoid telling everything that had happen at school?
> 
> I wasn't sure about Draco being tortured, but I think it could have happened. After all, the Dark Lord does not seem to be nice towards his men. 
> 
> Anyways, I have not written my other fic at all (but I have two chapters more for this one, haha), so I'm going to try writing a new chapter before posting here. I feel bad, this fic was the first idea I had and I already have a plan for 5 "books". 
> 
> Until next time, 新年好 (Happy New Year) for those of my readers who celebrate today! (Say hi! I miss Chinese, and I've already forgotten most of what I learned, that's sad)
> 
> Love,  
> Krummbein


	3. The Planning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, remember when I told you I wanted to focus on my other fic first?  
> I tried and failed.
> 
> I need to write this fic and I am pleased (or deeply ashamed?) to tell you that I've written 5 more chapters, which makes me think this fic will have around 16 chapters! I'm still not sure about the last chapter I wrote, and about the end, but it begins to be clearer and clearer. I'll try to post every week, as I have most of the fic already written. I almost wanted to post daily but, where would be the fun? And I need time to re(rerere)read a chapter before posting it.
> 
> Enough with me talking, hope you will like this chapter too!  
> Krummbein
> 
> (As I've said before, no beta :( If you want to help me (and remind me how bad my English is) please contact me at krummbeinmaghermine@gmail.com and tell me you've sent an e-mail :))

Hermione sighed and glanced at the clock in front of her. Her parents had only been gone for one hour, but she felt like she would never have enough time to do everything she needed to. She massaged her temples, hoping it would help her get rid of her headache and stood up. No blond in sight. _Still in the shower_ , she thought. Every morning, he took almost forty minutes in the bathroom, that was to say almost twice as long as her. And _she_ was supposed to be the girl? Someone needed to seriously update clichés about gender. Better, stop using them.

“Malfoy?” her voice resonated through the corridor.

“Yes?”

“Are you ready?”

“I’m not sure, can you come and tell me what you think?”

“Alright,” she said, before walking towards the stairs. He was waiting for her in his room, looking at a mirror hanging on the wall and moving his wand around his hairs which now looked very much like her own.

“Wow Malfoy, it really looks good on you!” she said, her voice clearly ironic.

He shot her an unamused look. Well, at least she had tried to be funny.

“I’m supposed to be your cousin, Granger, I thought it would add some _authenticity_ to my claims.”

“Yes well, I think it’s working, you look like a younger version of my dad.”

He pointed at a picture on his bed, showing her parents just after their second date. So, he had found the albums her mother had talked about. She hoped he hadn’t seen any embarrassing pictures of her.

“I see. I think it’s enough for now, shall we go?”

He did not answer but took the wallet Snape had given him before leaving. He had told them that he had put money on a Muggle account for years and that he was giving them everything he had. Hermione had tried to refuse, arguing that she too had some savings, but Snape had been determined and she had agreed to the point that if the hunt lasted longer than she had initially thought, they would need money to survive. He had also given them a small tent and Malfoy had recognized it as the one his family had prepared for the night of the Quidditch cup. Hermione had been grateful for it, and said it would be much more comfortable than the one she now intended to borrow from Arthur Weasley as a backup.

Hermione walked past Malfoy and went to the front door. Before opening it, she took her sunglasses from her handbag and saw Malfoy eying them curiously. Wizards had solutions for almost everything, including blocking the sun when it was too bright, and eyesight correction was available when people reached their twenties. She wondered why Harry’s father never had done it. Maybe, because of the war, he had had other things to do.

“This bus you mentioned…” Malfoy began.

“Yes? What about it?”

“… is it like the Knight Bus?” he sounded a bit apprehensive. He had heard stories from his classmates that he did not want to verify.

“What? No way, Muggles would not use something that barbaric to travel!”

She saw him flinched when she said the word barbaric, but he did not say anything about Muggles being less advanced than wizards. She had to admire the fact that he was now questioning and trying to stop believing in everything he thought he knew.

“Muggles' means of transport are slower than wizards’ one,” she began, explaining as always the differences between the two worlds. “Some are fast, like planes, but you take them for long travels, like going from London to Paris, and apparition or Portkeys are still faster. For trips like this one, my parents use a car but even if I passed my license, I’m not of age yet so we will have to take the bus and then the subway.”

“What do you mean, you’re not of age?” He seemed genuinely surprised. “You’re already 17!”

“Well,” she said, “Muggles have to wait one more year.”

“That’s stupid,” he answered.

“Well, that’s how it is. Still, the legal age was 21 not so long ago, and still is in some American states.”

They were almost at the bus stop now, and Hermione was relieved to see that they were alone. Malfoy had questions about almost everything he saw and, while she liked his enthusiasm, it was always hard for her to explain why electricity existed without attracting attention. The bus arrived and she asked for two tickets, ignoring Malfoy’s face when she told him he did not need to give her something back.

“I’ll pay for your lunch, then.”

“Really Malfoy this is not necessary. And I think you should keep it, just in case.”

“I’ve been living with you and your family for days now and I haven’t helped once to pay for the groceries. This is the least I can do.”

She did not answer, unwilling to create another argument. It was his money after all, and if he wanted to eat something in a muggle place maybe the time had come to introduce him to fast foods. She grinned, trying to imagine him eating a burger with his bare hands.

“I don’t like that face of yours, what’s so funny?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Nothing really, just remembered something.”

“Humpf,” he replied, apparently not convinced by her answer.

Unable to find a seat, they stayed near the doors and Hermione asked:

“Malfoy?”

“What?”

“I thought you only had galleons?”

“… right, let’s just say I’ll give you some for compensation.”

“Whatever makes you sleep at night,” she replied.

After almost thirty minutes of welcome silence, she suddenly grabbed his arm and pushed him towards the doors.

“That’s our stop!” she said brightly.

He tried to struggle but she did not release him before they were out of the bus. He looked around, impressed by the tall buildings he could see everywhere.

“How big did you say muggle London is?”

“I don’t know for sure, but I think there is something like seven million people living here.”

“SEVEN MILLION? Are you joking?”

“Not at all! And there are around 48 million inhabitants in the country.”

He did not answer, but she saw his face blanch. She was not surprised, thinking how hard it must be for someone like him to learn that the population of London itself was bigger than the magical community in the whole country.

“We are near the City – the financial centre of the country, maybe even of the European Union – but that would be too long to explain and we have a lot to do. Come on, the tube is this way.”

Draco followed her, admiring the different architectures on the buildings surrounding them and trying not to think about that ‘tube’ she had talked about. He did not want to travel in a _tube._ Granger was leading him to a large opening, where hundreds of people were heading to. Everything he saw was so weird, from the pictures not moving to the mechanical gates and even some of the _clothes_ , and he tried his best not to look too impressed by the way people seemed to know how everything worked.

They were now on a small platform, with Muggles really too close for his liking, and what looked like a small train stopped just in front of them. Was that the tube? They had to let people exit for almost two minutes before being able to step into the wagon, and Draco was appalled by the way Muggles were pushing each other so they wouldn’t have to wait longer. After what seemed to be an hour-long ride, they finally left and Hermione led them to a store called “Go Outdoors”.

“I thought we were supposed to buy food supplies?” he asked.

“Yes well, I wanted to see if they had something that might be useful. Who knows what we might need that your tent does not provide…?”

In the end, she took some hammocks, suspension systems and rain tarps “We never know, if we lose the tents or cannot go back in it”, she said, before taking some water purifying tablets and energy bars. She also bought all of them warm clothes, hiking boots and what she called Swiss knives.

Then, they went to the biggest store he had ever seen in his life and, while paying for their supplies, they had to explain to the checkout assistant that no, they were not preparing for a nuclear attack (Granger refused to explain that term) but just going on a camping trip for a few months. The assistant seemed to wonder how on earth they were going to transport all the food cans but said nothing and took the card Granger gave her. After pushing the trolleys out of the shop, they found a quiet corner and put everything in the small handbag she had. She had told him about the undetectable extension charm on it and he had been baffled by her action. Wasn’t she supposed to be the one sticking to the rules? But then he had remembered the story she had told her parents the day he had arrived and thought that maybe, just maybe, she was a little bit contradictory.

After a well-deserved lunch – even if he had to eat without any silverware, Draco enjoyed his burger immensely - their final stop was at a clothes store. It took Draco everything he had to accept the t-shirts Granger handed him. Never in his life had he seen such poor-quality clothes, and he tried very hard to make her find better ones.

“Malfoy, you only need them when your robes are on the laundry. And maybe wear them until we leave. Moreover, I’m sure it will be more comfortable around the house, I know I hate wearing robes.”

In the end, he reluctantly agreed to buy a few items but complained the whole way back that the shoes they had found were uncomfortable and that he hoped she knew it was her fault. Hermione almost smiled when she heard him. It seemed that the old Malfoy was still there, after all.

* * *

When they arrived back home, the sun was already going down and Mrs. Granger was eagerly waiting for them. She shot an amused glance at Draco when she saw him.

“Really darling,” she then said to her daughter, “I want you to consider buying a cell phone. It would be much easier for us to know when you come home. Especially for the time being…” she added, looking uneasy.

“I thought of that mum,” Hermione said, and she showed her mother the small device she had chosen while she was at the store. “I’ll give you my number. Is it all right for you?”

“Yes”.

The three of them stepped into the house and found Hermione’s father looking at some letters. He stopped and raised an eyebrow at Malfoy who, after making sure that the charms on the windows were still active, transformed back.

“We found people who can rent our business for… for as long as our trip around the world lasts.” said Mr. Granger. “You sure they won’t know where we work?” he asked, turning to Draco. “I do not really want them murdered because they could not say where we were.”

“Positive”, answered the wizard, “we will leave some pamphlets about cruises and world tours, maybe some lists of things you needed to do before going and they won’t look further. Just take care of everything work-related and we should be good. We will take the papers in the hideout.”

Granger’s father nodded before resuming his reading.

“Dinner is already served, I think we should eat before continuing the planning,” offered Mrs. Granger. “Darling,” she said to her daughter, “you should both go put your things upstairs… Oh,” she added after a few seconds, “I think Crookshank knows what’s going on. I found him trying to go into your suitcase. That’s the first time he’s ever done that, right?”

Hermione confirmed her mother’s suspicions and went into her room, where her cat seemed to be waiting for her return.

“Look, I told you already I cannot bring you with me.”

The cat simply glared at her. She sighted.

“We will be on the move, and you know you hate apparating.”

After Dumbledore’s funeral, she had wanted to come home by herself and told her parents she would apparate back. When they had arrived, Crookshank had jumped from her arms and disappeared for a week.

He looked at her wearing a _I don’t care_ look and she sat on her bed.

“You going with mum and dad would be better. And you could take care of them for me. They won’t remember anything, you know? At least they would have you to love”.

He did not seem to be convinced but let her pet him. That was a small step.

“Look, dinner is served and I need to go. We will fix that later, ok?”

He meowed, and she decided that it meant yes. She went to the dining room, where her parents and Malfoy were already sitting, and thought about how odd it was to see them interacting together. Why had she accepted to help him, again? Maybe she should have refused. _It would have been easier_ , she supposed, _I still don’t know how to tell the boys…_

She could easily picture their reactions. Harry would pale, look hurt and betrayed, but he would not try to do anything. Nearly killing Malfoy shook him, and seeing him on the tower was enough proof that he had not been willing to perform his task. He would accept to listen to what she had to say.

She remembered their discussion after the funeral. Harry had told her Malfoy reminded him of his cousin, Dudley. “The Dursleys hate anything magical”, he had begun to explain, “and Dudley had the misfortune to meet Hagrid. Of course, I thought it was funny at the time. But can you imagine what it did to him? His parents had told him I was weird since we were toddlers and when I learned the truth, they said that magic was something terrible, something to be feared. Then, some giant wizard tried to transform him into a pig. So now he is like his parents, and thinks we are some kind of monsters.” He had paused, looking at the marble tomb where Dumbledore was now resting. “I think Malfoy is in a similar situation. His parents have raised him to believe that Muggles and Muggle-borns were inferior to him, that they stole Magic from Squibs. I’m pretty sure it would be hard for him to stop believing in what his parents said, even if you try to prove him wrong every time we have an exam!” he had chuckled. “There are very few Muggle-born wizards, and they do not know anything about the wizarding world. And because of this lack of knowledge, Pure-Bloods continue to think that people like you are nothing.”

 _No_ , she thought, _the problem would be Ron._

At first, he would not believe his eyes. Then, his face would become red and he would start screaming. “How can you do that to us, Hermione? After he led them into the castle? He is the reason why Bill was attacked by Fenrir and you know it. He says he wants us to be allies but wait ‘till he takes us to his family.” He would not want to listen. He never had. She only needed to remember fourth year to be certain.

“Alright, pumpkin?” Her father looked concerned.

“Yes dad, just overthinking as always.” She forced herself to smile and continued eating, ignoring Malfoy’s glances in her direction. 

Dinner was uneventful, and they exchanged stories about their respective day. Her parents had been busy at the office, her father working longer than usual because he had to take care of his wife’s patients while she was interviewing potential replacements. Now that they had found two of them, they only needed to show them how they were working and to place some evidence of their impending trip in the house.

Mentally checking her calendar, Hermione assumed they would be done by Wednesday. It would give her enough time to fake their passports, take care of their bank accounts and show Malfoy the spot where he would be waiting during her stay at the Burrow. They had been searching for some protection spells, and she still needed to find a book about wards. She would go to Diagon Alley tomorrow.

Exceptionnaly, her mother had made a cake and even if she was not hungry she took a slice, taking her time to eat it while thinking. She had told Weasley she would be at the Burrow on the 26th, the day before they were supposed to go and get Harry. She had no idea what they were supposed to do, but trusted Alastor with the plan. She only hoped it would not endanger anyone.

A sharp noise made her jump, and she saw that her father was up, gathering the rest of the food. Her mother took the plates and joined him in the kitchen. Malfoy took his wand and made the rest of the dishes fly to the kitchen, where they put themselves into the dishwasher. Hermione watched him. She always did everything the Muggle way, because until this summer she had never been allowed to use her magic in front of her parents. Malfoy had changed that. On his second day here, he had charmed the knife to slice the bread, forgetting that her family was not used to magic. Her father had broken the teapot when he had come into the kitchen. Malfoy had tried to apologize but Hermione’s mother had only shrugged and asked him to perform more spells so she could see what they could really do. His first demonstration had been to repair the broken teapot. After that episode, Hermione began using magic more regularly.

In the meantime, she and her parents got to know Malfoy better, and after a week of adaptation for every member of the house, things were now easier. Her father was still wary of him but her mother seemed to like him a lot. _And after all_ , she had said, _why not?_ He was polite, well-mannered, and always available when they needed him. Two nights after his arrival – after he had gone to bed of course – Jean had also insisted that, even if he was still too thin, he was really good looking and that she would have loved to have a son like him. Her father had seemed outraged and Hermione had tried to find a less embarrassing subject as fast as she could. Since that evening, she sometimes saw her mother observing Malfoy for a long time before nodding slightly, apparently satisfied with something Hermione could not guess. 

To be honest, she _could_ guess, but preferred not to think about _that_. Two days ago, she had found a gift card from a well-known lingerie store on her bed, and she had eyed her mother suspiciously during the entire dinner. Yesterday, Jean had insisted that they should have a mother-daughter afternoon and asked her daughter if she wanted to come with her at the beauty salon. Of course she did not want to come, and neither of them had the time! She could only imagine what her mother had prepared for her today.

Malfoy came back and raised an eyebrow.

“Granger, you haven’t moved since I went to the kitchen.”

“So?”

“You could have helped.”

“You did it well enough for both of us,” she smirked.

He rolled the eyes but said nothing.

“So,” she asked after a few seconds, “maybe we should go upstairs and see what we do about the supplies?”

“Sure,” he replied without hesitation. “Lead the way Granger.”

* * *

“Let’s see, I think we should buy some juice too, and maybe water bottles. What do you think?”

“Well, there’s the possibility that we will not find water near the camp if we have to move from place to place every three day. And I'm sure you know it's more difficult to summon water when the source is too far away. And I like apple juice, one or two bottles would be nice.”

“Alright then, I’ll ask mum to buy some while I’m on Diagon tomorrow.”

She took her pen and notebook and began to make a new list, silently humming a tune he could not recognize.

“Say again, why can't I come with you?” he asked.

Not being alone anymore was nice, but Merlin what he would give to go to some wizard place! He had already tried three times since the beginning of his stay, and the answer had not changed.

“I told you already, you could be recognized.” she snapped while finishing writing her sentence.

“Nobody could recognize me if I disguise myself like today.”

“Really?” she asked, now trying to find a way for her books to fit in her small purse. “You have a _unique_ way to move, trust me. Anybody knowing you well enough might be suspicious. Furthermore, being with me would make you a target too.”

“What do you mean, a unique way to move?” He said, his cheeks reddening. “And how could you know that?”

“Well,” she began, “I observed you last year, because of what Harry said. I was trying to find out if you were really up to something.”

“And what were your conclusions?” he asked, wondering what she had observed. He had been a wreck, and he knew that even she could have wondered what was happening.

“I did not really have time to form any conclusion,” she said, turning her head so he could not see her face anymore – _she should not feel embarrassed! –_ , “there was this business with Harry’s book that made me really mad, and after what happened to Myrtle’s bathroom, I was too angry with him to accept that he might be right.”

There was a pregnant pause, neither of them willing to speak about the fact that Harry had _indeed_ been right, and that Malfoy had almost killed three people. He observed the fabric of his new shirt for a moment before taking the satchel he had bought.

“Granger, why don’t you show me this undetectable extension charm of yours? I think it’s not fair that you’re the only one with a nice bag. And if for any reason we are separated, it could be useful. I’ll store some potions and other things for myself. Like food and water. And the hammock.”

Hermione smiled at him, thankful for the opportunity to think of something else than Dumbledore’s death and Malfoy’s involvement with the Death Eaters.

“Alright. Let’s see what I can do for you, and then I’ll try to find some bag for the boys too.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think maybe I overdid it. I mean, I went on wikipedia to find what kind of store was open at the time the story is written, and almost gave the name of the phone Hermione is using. And I checked the population. Too much?
> 
> For your information, they are at Liverpool station. That's where I arrived, and I just LOVE the street nearby!
> 
> I tried to find something plausible for the number of wizards in Britain, but I don't know how to estimate it. If I trust the book, I found around 1000 wizards but I think it's not enough (I mean, Diagon Alley seems big, and the Ministry too! And if there were not a lot of people, how would the shops make money??). So I thought that maybe there used to be more wizards before the First War. And if I imagine that between 0.01% and 0.5% of the population has magical powers, I find between 5,500 and 277,000 people. Which seems more logical to me. What do you think? In any case, I think there are less wizards in the entire country than in London. Poor Draco, I'm sure he never knew that!
> 
> Please don't forget to comment, tell me what you think of the story so far! And thanks again for the comments and the kudos!  
> See you next week ;)  
> Krummbein


	4. Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand voilà!
> 
> I'm really happy with this chapter, but mainly because the wonderful  
> Enderfem accepted to be the beta reader and helped me :D thanks again for your work!!

Hermione kept reading the same sentence, over and over again. She sighed, and stopped pretending. She wished her brain would stop working so that she could concentrate on what she had to do. Think. Plan. Organize. But not cry.

“Granger”.

She felt his presence before he made any sound. It was late already, and no noise came from the street. She stilled, and focused on her book.

“Granger, I know you can hear me.”

 _Keep pretending_ , she thought, _keep pretending and he’ll leave._

“Granger… Hermione,” he added when she said nothing. “I’m not stupid so stop pretending you don’t hear what I’m saying. Because if you do, I’ll keep talking and tell you exactly why you should stop thinking that you are the worst daughter ever.”

She broke when she heard the last part of the sentence, and felt the salty tears leave the corner of her eyes. She did not move.

“You _know_ you made the right decision. Fuck, even _I_ know that.”

 _Say nothing,_ she thought again, _he’ll grow tired of you being mute._

“We double-checked everything, and they are now happily in a plane to Australia as we speak. I’m sure Crookshanks will take care of them,” he added after a pause.

She felt her heart sink and opened her lips slightly, trembling.

“But what if something happens?”

She had left her parent’s bed and was now facing him, cheeks wet from the tears that were still coming from her eyes.

“Don’t tell me this was a good idea, because it _wasn’t_ . Double-checking everything does not mean it is safe for them. They are _muggles_ , Malfoy, we’re not sure how a long memory modification will affect them. I know it should _in theory_ be alright if we finish whatever this is that we’re doing in less than a year, but how can we be sure we will?”

He did not answer. What could he possibly say? She was right. They did not know for sure what the remaining Horcruxes looked like, no more than they knew where they could be. With any luck, still in England but how could they be sure? From what Granger had told him, Albania had been the Dark Lord’s favourite hiding spot during the first ten years of their life, and he had been there before to learn the secrets of immortal life. They could be searching for years.

“I’m sorry, Granger.”

“Sorry?” she looked baffled. “Sorry for what?”

He sighed, and ran a hand through his unkempt hair.

“You shouldn’t have had to change your parents’ memories, I know that. No more than I should have had to do what I did last year. In fact, no one should have to go through what we are living. Everything in our lives is so _wrong_ now, and I think it began long before today. I feel lost. I’ve had to leave everything I own, and my parents now think I’m dead. I have nobody to talk to except you and, less than three weeks ago, we were enemies. I don’t know what I will do alone when you’re at Weasley’s, and I don’t know how we will accomplish Dumbledore’s task. Merlin, I don’t even know what I will do if they don’t want me involved. But you know what? I don’t care. Because for the first time in the last two years, I’m hopeful.”

“… Why?” she asked. Her voice was only a murmur, and she seemed much calmer now.

“Because Dumbledore, even if he was a fool – don’t you dare say no, Granger, he _was_ a fool,” he told her when he saw that she wanted to say something, “Dumbledore had a plan. And he wanted me included. He meticulously planned my disappearance with Severus, so I’m sure he knew exactly what he was doing when he told Potter about the Horcruxes. Trust me, Granger, we will beat the shit out of the Dark Lord and bring your parents back before next summer.”

She looked at him, and for a moment she felt like she believed him. The way he said that, so sure of himself, gave her a little hope too. That did not last long, however, but at least she had stopped crying. He extended his hand in front of her, and she saw him crack a tentative smile. A real, beautiful smile, not the like the ones he usually did.

“Come on, let’s go order a pizza and watch a movie. And if you don’t want to stay in the house, we will go back to the tent.”

* * *

**48 hours earlier**

Draco was staring at the sky, the mouth slightly open. Several people stopped and looked up too, but failed to see what seemed to be so breath-taking. A hard voice interrupted him.

“Malfoy, move. You’re making me look ridiculous.”

Granger took his sleeve and forced him to start walking again, but he could not detach his eyes from what he was seeing. Up in the sky were _giant, metal monsters_ , bigger than every dragon he had ever seen. And they were flying. He was taking back everything he had ever said about muggles. They were fucking _amazing!_

“Can we see them better?” he asked, eager to stand next to one.

“We will go into the airport but I’m afraid we won’t be able to go nearer than we already are. But if you want, we could go to the Royal Air Force Museum one day. They have ancient models, and some of the planes are cut in halves so that you can see everything inside.”

Malfoy wiggled his eyebrows.

“Is that a date, Granger?”

He smirked when he saw her cheeks redden, and she hit him in the chest.

“Oi witch, you’ve got no sense of humour!”

“I don’t know how you can think of dating so easily”, she huffed, nose in the air, “I’ve got other things on my mind right now.”

“Really? How can you, when it is _me_ asking you out?” he had put some sunglasses on and looked more arrogant than ever, even if he had another face.

“Wow, your ego is shining brightly today”, she deadpanned, “but for your information, not every girl in the word is susceptible to the famous _Malfoy charm_.”

His hand had moved to his face and he tried to look heartbroken.

“Merlin, have I been rejected? And for what? A Weasel I’m sure!”

“ _Do not speak ill of Ronald!_ ” she shrieked.

“Who said anything about him?”, Malfoy innocently asked.

“I wish you were back to your amazing bouncing ferret form”, she grumbled.

He stopped right in his tracks.

“Really?” he answered rashly. “Well I’m rather happy I’m not. This was not a _fun_ experience, you know? Madame Pomfrey had to regrow most of my bones because of that imbecile and trust me it was really painful.”

She looked astounded.

“Oh my god Malfoy… He broke your _bones_?”

Malfoy snorted.

“Course he did. What did you think?” he said. “He crashed me against a tree and into the ground for Circe’s sake!”

“I’m so sorry, I hadn’t thought of that!”

She really looked like she meant it, and he felt his anger disappear slowly.

“S’alright,” he said, hitting a stone with his left shoe. “Nobody ever does.”

Neither of them spoke for the rest of the walk, and Draco decided to observe the inside of the airport. The building was huge, and he was pretty sure that it was bigger than Hogwarts itself. Or at least the Manor. Everything seemed so _clean_ , and, _bright_ and _new_. Of course, the Manor was cleaned once a day but it was positively ancient, and after seeing Granger’s house and other muggle interiors, Draco wouldn't mind a little update of the furniture. _Maybe keep real wood_ , he thought. Plastic and the other new materials he had seen seemed to be a little bit fragile. And looked _so_ cheap.

But in order to do that, Potter’s side had first to win the war, and then he had to stay out of Azkaban. Granted, the fact that he may be able to get Granger’s support (and maybe win some other alliances, a little hope could not hurt after all) was good for him. But he was not sure that it would be enough. Admittedly, he hadn’t killed anybody and was still a minor when everything had happened, but he also knew that the Wizengamot hated Death Eaters (for good reasons, he had to admit it) and that life-sentence was usually a winner for them.

He heard Granger say his name and stopped his train of thought, looking at the little desk she was pointing at.

“That’s where we’re going to book the plane!”

The employee was a woman in her thirties, and he was happy to see that she was eying him from head to toes. He had to admit it, Granger’s father was a nice-looking man, and Draco didn’t mind looking like him. However, the employee was not the kind of woman he liked. He smirked, and put his hand on Granger’s back.

“Let’s go, darling!” he said, loud enough to be heard a few meters ahead.

The look on her face was positively horrified, and he saw that the employee looked openly disappointed. 

Ah, women.

* * *

The stay at the airport had been longer than anticipated, and Granger was blaming him. He had been asking stupid questions he knew would bother the poor woman at the desk and his companion had not been able to do anything because he had snuck his hand around her waist when she had tried to admonish him. It had apparently been distracting and to his utter satisfaction, she had had a hard time focusing on what she was saying. When they had left the building, he had heard her grumble – _asshole_ – and had decided that his time had been wisely spent. Annoying Granger definitely was his favourite hobby.

Then they went to the bank and asked for their advisor, a man in his early thirties who came smiling a bit too much for his liking. He immediately wanted to leave. The employees looked like hypocrites, the building smelled weird, and he was positive that the banker was checking out Granger’s cleavage. The banker was eying him regularly too, and he did his best to ignore him. Fortunately, Granger was doing a superb job, and he had to recognize that she knew how to bargain.

“We are staying indefinitely in Australia; I want to be sure that everything will be done by tomorrow.”

“Mrs. Wilkins, I promise you we will do anything we can to speed the process. But those things take some time, you know?”

Draco heard her sigh, and she turned to look at him. She looked tired, even with her mother’s face, and seemed to become more and more desperate by the minute. Time to take things into his own hands. 

“What my wife is saying, sir,” he said, while imperceptibly moving his wand, “is that we _really_ need everything done in the next twenty-four hours. Surely,” he added smoothly, “someone with your status might be able to help us?”

The muggle looked confused for a few seconds, and then started to smile. He ignored Granger’s shocked look and listened to the man.

“Of course, Mr. Wilkins, I’ll do my best to accommodate you. I’ll call you tomorrow morning to confirm that everything is settled, will it be alright?”

“Quite,” Draco answered, “I thank you sir.”

The man bowed as deeply as it was possible while being seated, and then escorted them from the building. Granger was fuming and did not waste any time in lecturing him.

“You did not need to use imperio on the poor muggle! It’s illegal!” She was beside herself.

“Calm down, Granger, I did not use it.”

“Really?” she said, unconvinced. “Then what did you do?”

“A powerful persuasion charm, and a little bit of legilimency. Muggles’ minds are much weaker than wizards’ ones, it was not difficult at all to make him feel obligated towards us.”

“Still,” she said, a little tensed, “you could have let me bargain. I had almost succeeded.”

“You had not. And I did not like that guy. Goblins are not friendly at all, but at least they can be trustworthy with your gold.”

“He is a banker, Draco. Of course, he is dishonest!”

He stayed silent for a while, and decided it was time to change the subject.

“Do you think we’ll have time for another session of training when we get home?”

After a few weeks living with her, he had begun referring to her home as his too. She did not seem to be upset by it.

“I’m not sure,” she answered, checking her watch. “We have a lot of things to do before tomorrow evening, I’d rather be sure that we are done with that first. We’ll resume practicing when we’re in the woods, I suppose.”

“Alright. Then maybe we have time for a tea? There’s a shop right at the corner. I’ll pay for you.” he said, grasping the purse containing the change she had brought back from her trip in Diagon.

She stopped, thinking.

“Yes,” she answered, glad to have a little break. “We have time.”

* * *

**24 hours earlier**

Malfoy had easily erected the tent and was now inside, putting the various supplies they had gathered during the last weeks of his stay. Hermione checked her book and began reciting the spells, pausing every five seconds to verify that they were indeed working. After a few minutes, Malfoy neared her and observed her movements, sometimes repeating them without his wand.

They had decided it would be best if they both knew the enchantments, and had begun training together after their daily workout. Hermione had indeed found out that Malfoy was quite competent when it came to battle – courtesy of Bellatrix – and in only three weeks she already saw a few changes. She was faster and her reflexes were sharper. In exchange, she had shown him her bike and he had agreed to come with her, but only because his body needed a good workout, he had told her. She, however, suspected he missed flying. 

She saw her parents approaching and waved in their direction. When she saw that neither of them had moved, she tried to call them, with no success.

“I think it’s working.” said Malfoy behind her. “We should check if they smell something,” he added, before launching a pepper spray up in the sky and making it explode. Hermione quickly summoned a bubble around her head and waited for something to happen. Nothing came. She looked at Malfoy and both of them stepped out of the protective wards. She saw her parents flinch.

“Good Lord, Hermione, that is impressive!” said her mother.

“Thanks, I suppose.” she answered, removing the bubble around her head. “It seems that everything is working, we will only need to add the muggle-repellent charm and we will be done for tonight.”

She had spoken as if nothing was more normal than what they were about to do.

“I think it’s time for us to take care of my room,” she told Malfoy. “Mum, dad, are you done with your luggage?”

“Almost, pumpkin,” answered her father. “We wanted to see what you two were up to.” He added, eyeing Malfoy. “Nice trick you just did, I’d like to see the insides of the tent if we have enough time.”

Hermione told him they would be able to visit if they wanted to, and the four of them went back to the house. Malfoy followed her to her room and she felt her heart ache when thinking of what she was about to do. A large hand laid on her shoulder, and she instinctively squeezed it, thankful for this silent support. Malfoy removed his hand and began shrinking some of her childhood toys before sending them into the small box she had prepared. It was the little push she needed and she began to help him. 

* * *

Dinner was a small affair. Everyone was tense, and Draco felt uneasy. Granger’s father seemed to have something against the roasted chicken they were eating and was currently butchering it while her mother looked a bit depressed, mechanically chewing her potatoes. Granger was not eating at all, and Draco himself felt like his stomach had been replaced by a huge brick. A dog barked from a house nearby and everybody jumped, before releasing their breath in a comical sound. Then, they all looked at each other before finally bursting into laughter.

“My God, I think that’s the worst dinner in my life,” breathed Granger’s mother, “it’s like somebody died right in front of us.”

Malfoy choked and drank some water to ease his throat.

“Sorry, just triggered a little _souvenir_ from last year…”

Everyone looked at him, wondering whether or not they wanted to know what he was referring to.

“Better not ask, trust me on that.”

“Yes, I think you’re right,” answered Hermione. She did not know most of the things that had happened at the Manor but from what Malfoy had told her, Voldemort liked making a show of killing people. She hoped for his sake that nothing had happened in his dining room.

“Well,” said her father, “I think we’re all done here. Why don’t we all watch something before… before going to bed?”

Hermione’s hands trembled and she had to cling to the table to stop them. She saw Malfoy looking but was glad he did nothing but look at her with sympathy. They both cleared the table – they were much more efficient after all – and everybody gathered around the television.

* * *

After three long hours, Hermione’s father switched the TV off and rose from the couch.

“I think it’s time for us to go to bed,” he said in a stiff voice. “Are you coming, honey?”

Mrs. Granger looked at her husband and nodded before quickly following him upstairs. Draco and Hermione looked at each other but said nothing, and only moved when her parents called them.

Breathing heavily, Draco followed her out of the bedroom, waiting for them to say goodbye to each other. The farewell took almost thirty minutes and a Granger with puffy and watery eyes opened the door for him. Mr. Granger was already in his bed and drinking what he knew was a sleep potion while Mrs. Granger was still up. She came near him and gave him a long hug before quietly asking him to promise he would take care of her daughter. He solemnly agreed and she smiled brightly at him before lying in her bed and drinking her potion.

They waited for it to act and then began removing their memories.

* * *

**Earlier this morning**

From where she was, Hermione could see her mother gently admonishing her father and suddenly felt really alone. They had forgotten her. Even Crookshanks could not come to her now. He had tried last night, and they had had to put new wards around the tent before he finally gave up with a heart- breaking meow. She fought the tears she felt rising and watched them until they left the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it's a sad chapter, sorry :( 
> 
> The part that almost makes me cry is when I imagine Crooks understanding that Hermione abandonned him :'(  
> I've always wondered how that part had happened and I'm happy Hermione is not alone! I'm also happy that her parents know and (almost) approve.
> 
> Until next time!


	5. The Burrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloooo!
> 
> Another chapter, again reviewed by Enderfem :)
> 
> From now on, there will be some parts taken directly from the 7th books, because obviously I tried to include some of the events that happened. My goal is to make something plausible, and for me it means trying to stay near the original text sometimes!
> 
> Thanks for the comments (and kuddos!) on the last chapter, I think everyone agreed it was a sad one! Hope this one will be better ;)
> 
> Krummbein

“So, you’ve got everything you need?” she asked for the fourth time, watching him carefully.

He rolled his eyes. If they were not both in a terrible situation, he could have found her concern about him really funny.

“YES, Granger, everything is under control… I’m going to be preparing potions for the next few days so don’t worry; I won’t miss you too much.”

She hit him jokingly – something she had been doing more and more often, but he knew he was to blame – and he spoke again.

“Really, I’m more concerned about you. Going to the Weasley’s is bad enough, but I can’t imagine going to a Weasley’s wedding.”

“You’re not fun at all, you know that?”

She had a smile on her lips that pretended the contrary, but he chose not to tell her.

“You just need more time. One day, you’ll find me hilarious,” he said in a serious tone.

She smiled only more, and he smiled back.

“You should go, I’m sure they are going to worry sick about you.”

“Yeah right.” She seemed to be hesitating. “Come say goodbye?” she asked, not looking directly at him. He agreed and the both stepped out of the tent. Hermione turned around, looking at him.

“I’ll try to drop by tonight, but I can’t promise anything. You still got your galleon?”

He took it from his pocket and showed it to her.

“Right here. I won’t lose it.”

“Good.” she answered. “Good.”

Both of them remained silent, unwilling to part. Her, because she nervously anticipated the questions about her family. Him, because he feared to be alone again.Finally, Hermione made up her mind and embraced Malfoy tightly before quickly moving away and disappearing a few meters beyond the wards.

* * *

She apparated at the edge of a forest and slowly looked at her surroundings. _The field is that way_ , she remembered. She sent her Patronus ahead and waited for Mr. Weasley to come, her wand wrapped in her hand. She heard his voice less than five minutes later.

“Hermione, are you there?”

“Mr. Weasley, just here!”

Arthur Weasley was slowly approaching, his wand in front of him.

“Hello Mr. Weasley,” she told the older man.

“Hello Hermione dear. Do you mind if we make a few verifications about our identities?”

“Not at all, please begin.” she answered.

“What happened on December the 21st, almost two years ago?”

She did not need to think to answer that. She remembered too well.

“You were bitten by Nagini. The healers had to put stitches on the bite because it would not stop bleeding.”

“Correct,” he said with a weak smile. “Your turn.”

“What happened the last time I came to the Burrow, when I went into the twins’ room?”

She saw his eyes flash in recognition.

“One of their punching telescopes gave you a nasty bruise and you had to wait a few days before being able to look normal again.”

“That is indeed what I remember,” she chuckled. “Although I did not really think it was funny at the time.”

“That I understand perfectly. Happy to see you safe, Hermione” he added, extending his arm.

“Happy to be there, Mr. Weasley!” she replied, shaking his hand.

“Follow me, I’ll take you home.”

Hermione said nothing and did as he asked, trying not to think too much about her home.

* * *

The Burrow was always in effervescence, but it seemed that the coming wedding had made things worse. Or maybe it was just Mrs. Weasley, who Hermione could hear scolding the twins.

“George for the last time, you are supposed to put normal candies in the boxes, not yours!”

“My dear mother, do you really think we would do something like that at our brother’s wedding?” asked Fred, a smile creeping up in the corner of his mouth.

“I can’t believe our own mother would think ill of us,” added George, comically wiping away an invisible tear from the corner of his eye.

Mr. Weasley apparently thought it would be best to interrupt his wife before she hexed their sons, and made himself known.

“Molly dear, look who’s here!”

Molly Weasley instantly turned around and a large smile appeared on her face when she saw Hermione standing next to her husband.

“Hermione, darling! I’m so happy you arrived safely! How are you? And your parents?”

“Fine fine,” she answered in a little tensed voice. “Everyone is fine.”

Molly smiled again and told her to take her things up to Ginny’s room.

“We have no room these days, the Delacour will be arriving shortly and we still have Harry to get…” she carried on. “Are you going with them, dear?” she asked, apparently anxious to know.

“Yes, Mrs. Weasley, I am. I’m almost eighteen so I don’t think it will be a problem,” she quickly added when she saw a scowl appear on her face.

“Yes yes, right you are.” She seemed to think it would be better if she stayed here. “Could you please ask Ginny to come down when you see her? And would you mind giving me a hand? We still have so much to prepare,” she finished.

“I’ll help you gladly, Molly,” Hermione answered before climbing the stairs leading to the bedrooms.

She quickly arrived at her friend’s room and knocked two times before the door opened.

“Hermione, finally!” said Ginny while letting her come in. “Mum’s been mad since the beginning of July, and I thought I would not survive before you arrived.”

“I saw that,” she answered. “Was it that bad?”

“Yes, definitely,” replied the younger girl. “She wants everything to be perfect for the wedding. I can’t blame her honestly, but Merlin, she is driving everyone here crazy. I think that business with Bill did not help, and Ron accidentally mentioned that you did not intend to go back to Hogwarts last week.”

“He did that?” huffed Hermione indignantly. “He said nothing about it in his last letter!”

“Well, I think he did not want you to know, he says you can be as scary as mum if you want and trust me, she did her job pretty well when she heard him!”

“I hope she maimed him,” told Hermione, sitting on her bed. “Nobody was supposed to know that.”

“Yeah, I know…” Ginny said, barely audibly.

“Ginny…”

“No please, don’t.” The girl seemed to be holding back her tears. “I know you don’t have a choice.”

Hermione simply nodded.

“I suppose mum asked for us to help?” asked her friend a moment later.

“Yes.”

“Better get going, then.”

* * *

It was past midnight when Draco heard the sound of an apparition, and even if he suspected who it was, he took his wand with him. Granger seemed tired, and he wondered what she had done to look like that. He lowered his wand when she passed the wards. Only she could do that.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he responded. “You look terrible.”

She glared at him.

“Molly asked us to help her for the wedding. I only stopped two hours ago and then I had to wait to be sure that Ginny was asleep to come here. What did you do?”

“I brewed several potions for us. Skelegro, Blood-Repleneshing Potion and Burn-healing paste so far. I was about to begin a Draught of Peace; would you like to help me or are you too tired?”

She shrugged.

“I can do that.”

She came inside and began chopping the different ingredients he had prepared while he took care of the fire. As always when they were together, they began talking about the preparations.

“I talked to Arthur before dinner, and he gave me his tent without any question.”

“Good.”

He was adding the powdered moonstone and waited for the potion to turn green.

“And he and the twins transfigured the family ghoul, so that he would look like Ron with Spattergroit.”

“Gross, Granger.”

“Well, I think it’s a good plan. Someone might come to see why he is not at Hogwarts.”

“Still, it’s gross.”

“George told the ghoul that Ron would leave at some point, and he seemed happy to know that he could go to his room.”

“Granger please, I don’t want to know any more of that.”

“Right, sorry.”

She handed him the rest of the powdered moonstone and prepared the syrup of hellebore.

“Ron asked me what my parents would do if the officials came to ask where I was…”

He continued stirring the preparation but looked up. She seemed sad.

“… did you tell him?”

“Yes.”

Her voice was quivering as she spoke.

“He was really nice, you know? Told me I did not have to talk about it if I did not want to. I think that’s the first time he’s ever been so considerate.”

“… s’ppose it’s good news,” he answered, unsure about what to say that was not an insult.

“Yes, I think it is.”

The potion was now simmering, and he knew they had at least 15 minutes before it turned orange. He took her hand and gently stroked it, sincerely hoping it would make her feel better. He too, could be considerate. She took his hand and squeezed it in return.

“Tea?” he asked.

“Yes, please,” she said with a forced smile.

He waited for her to release his hand and began brewing them a small pot of tea. When he returned, however, she was asleep on a sofa. He decided he would let her rest until the potion was done.

* * *

Alastair Moody was mad. Granted, Hermione had already known that, but to a certain extent only. The plan the man had was totally unsafe, especially for those not looking like Harry. But he had not wanted to listen to her, and she had been the only one thinking they ought to find something else. That’s how, less than 48 hours after her arrival at the Burrow, she found herself in front of Harry’s house. As he opened the door, everyone greeted him and she moved forwards to hug him tightly. How she had missed him!

Seemingly surprised – of course, he did not know the plan yet – he led them to the kitchen. It was weird to be there, she thought. She knew he had no fond memories of this place, and that he would be glad to leave the house. But he could have had a nice childhood here if his family had not been like that. She thought of Malfoy and wondered how his family would have reacted if Tonks had been brought at the Manor as a baby. Maybe she would still have had her own room. The Manor must be big enough for people to live there without encountering one another for weeks, if she could judge from the size of the tent. And they would not even have had to take care of her. They had elves for that.

She heard Harry cry indignantly at the view of the flask with muddy liquid.

“I told them you’d take it like this,” she said with a hint of complacency.

But everyone was already trying to convince Harry that it was a good idea, and he reluctantly accepted to give some of his hair.

“Ooh, you look much tastier than Crabbe and Goyle, Harry,” she said, before catching sight of Ron’s raised eyebrows, blushing slightly, and saying, “Oh, you know what I mean — Goyle’s potion looked like bogies.” Well, better him hearing me than Malfoy, she thought.

“Right then, fake Potters line up over here, please,” said Moody.

She and the others lined up in front of the sink and, after Moody had reminded Mundungus that his place was better than the protector’s, they drank the potion. As it hit her throat, she began experiencing the same discomfort as she had a few years ago, only this time she felt no tail appear. However, she had the unpleasant experience of growing up in an amount of time too short for her liking, and she felt her hair shrink.

She saw Fred and George turn to each other and say together, “Wow — we’re identical!”

“I dunno, though, I think I’m still better-looking,” said Fred, examining his reflection in the kettle.

“Bah,” said Fleur, checking herself in the microwave door, “Bill, don’t look at me — I’m ’ideous.”

She felt annoyed by the French girl. Was it really the time for that? She tried to examine her knew body as she changed – it was weird to be a boy, and she felt parts of her new anatomy that did not quite belong here - but discovered it was now difficult for her to see anything.

“Harry, your eyesight really is awful,” she said, as she put on glasses.

She had her fake owl cage and a rucksack and distractedly listened to Moody arguing – again – with Mundungus and telling the false Harrys who they would go with. Maybe I should have said something to Malfoy about going on a mission, she told herself, feeling a little bit guilty. No, she decided, this was my decision to take and he should not have anything to say about that.

Nothing would happen, as they had led the Death Eaters to think that Harry would leave in a few days. It was just a precaution. She followed as everyone left the room and accepted Kingsley’s hand to get onto the thestral. She held onto him and tried to find a position more comfortable.

“Good luck, everyone,” shouted Moody. “See you all in about an hour at the Burrow. On the count of three. One . . . two . . . THREE.” 

She felt the thestral leave the ground and tried not to look until they were up in the sky. God, she hated flying. After a moment, she felt the cage slip from her hand and decided to secure it with a small rope she summoned. She felt relieved to have something to occupy her mind just for a few seconds, and turned a bit to attach the rope to her bag.

That’s when she saw the Death Eaters. She screamed Kingsley’s name, and cast a spell on the first figure she saw. How could that be possible? No one but a few members of their group knew! _Let’s hope Severus is not there_ , she prayed. She knew there was a huge possibility, but at least she was sure that he would not try to kill anyone. But what about the people of the Order, what if they kill him? They had no means of communication between them, it was too dangerous, so when would she be sure that nothing had happened to him?

She tried to put her doubts aside and concentrated on her spell casting. All around her, screams were continuing, as were blazes of light. The group divided, and she saw that there were still five Death Eaters behind them. She made a small sign of victory when her spell hit one, only to feel her heart stop when Kingsley made one fall from his broom. She had no time to question his identity and successfully blocked the spell sent by one of the three remaining ones. The second spell however she did not see, and she felt a huge burn on her left arm.

“Fuck.”

“Have you been hit?” she heard Kingsley scream.

“Yes, but I don’t think it’s too bad. I can still move my arm,” she responded, trying to keep up with the speed of their enemies.

“We’re halfway, hold on!”

Suddenly, something seemed to happen amongst their chasers and she froze for a second when she saw a new figure materialize.

“KINGSLEY!” she screamed, Harry’s voice filling her ears. “KINGSLEY HE’S HERE!”

The man before her quickly turned around again and the both began sending quick spells to defend and protect themselves. Voldemort was rapidly approaching when he suddenly disappeared, soon followed by his minions.

“My god,” she said, still shocked, “have you seen that? He can…”

“Fly, yes…” answered Kingsley, who looked pretty shaken too. “The fact that he left was not good at all, he must think one of the others is the right Harry.”

“Merlin… How long do we have left?”

“Twenty more minutes.”

“Let’s hope everyone is fine, then…”

* * *

The portkey took them rapidly to the Burrow and she opened her eyes as soon as she felt that she could move without throwing up. She felt her appearance change and saw the figures waiting for them. Harry! She flung herself into his arms, ignoring the pain everywhere in her body and listened to Kingsley and Lupin verifying their identities. Why hadn’t she thought of that first?! She stopped tormenting herself when she heard Lupin.

“Only Harry, Hagrid, George, and me.”

She felt her heart sink and stifled a little moan behind her hand. Poor Remus, if something happened to Tonks… She listened to them talking.

“So that’s why he left, to follow you!” said Kingsley. “I couldn’t understand why he’d vanished. But what made him change targets?”

“Harry behaved a little too kindly to Stan Shunpike,” said Lupin.

“Stan?” she repeated. “But I thought he was in Azkaban?”

Kingsley let out a mirthless laugh.

“Hermione, there’s obviously been a mass breakout which the Ministry has hushed up. Travers’s hood fell off when I cursed him, he’s supposed to be inside too. But what happened to you, Remus? Where’s George?”

“He lost an ear,” said Lupin.

“Lost an — ?” she repeated in a high voice.

“Snape’s work,” said Lupin.

_NO! No no no no that must be a mistake!_

“Snape?” shouted Harry. “You didn’t say —”

They fell silent, and nobody talked until Hagrid called them all. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were still with George, apparently not able to make his ear grow back. It must have been a mistake, she repeated to herself.

Harry and Ginny were now talking, and she saw that Harry was struggling to avoid taking his former girlfriend in his arms. Before he could do anything, though, they heard Mr. Weasley shouting and he soon appeared, quickly followed by Fred. She observed them from afar, beginning to tend to her own injuries. From what she heard, fortunately, George was still able to make some bad jokes. What about Ron? She felt panic rise in her chest once again. What if something had happened to him? What if he had… died? No, he could not have. Not before she…

A broom materialized directly above them and streaked toward the ground.

“It’s them,” she screamed with relief.

Ron appeared unharmed, but was pale and seemed to have lost his words. He mumbled a “you’re okay” while trying to reach for Harry and her, and she flew at him and hugged him tightly.

“I thought — I thought —”

“ ’M all right,” said Ron, patting her on the back. “ ’M fine.”

“Ron was great,” said Tonks warmly, relinquishing her hold on Lupin. “Wonderful. Stunned one of the Death Eaters, straight to the head, and when you’re aiming at a moving target from a flying broom —”

“You did?” said Hermione, gazing up at Ron with her arms still around his neck.

“Always the tone of surprise,” he said a little grumpily, breaking free. “Are we the last back?”

Maybe she could have said something else, she supposed, he looked a bit offended. But she had not tried to insult him, for Circe’s sake! She felt her arm continue burning and left for the bathroom, hoping that everyone else was alright.

* * *

It was not the sound that startled him, but the fact that it was around three in the morning and that Granger – if it was her – should have been in bed. He tried to stay calm. Had something bad happened to her? He left his room the moment she appeared in the tent, and he stared at her. Her left sleeve seemed burned, and there was a huge bandage around her arm. She was walking warily, and her eyes were red and puffy.

“Merlin Hermione…”

She reached for him and he embraced her tightly.

“Did something happen?”

She was not crying, but he felt her shaking.

“Hermione please, tell me something! Are you alright? Is Potter alive?”

She nodded both times, and he felt a little bit better.

“Alastor…”

“Mad-Eye? What about him?”

“He… He DIED.”

“Moody? Dead? How is it possible? Were you attacked?”

She nodded again.

“At the Burrow? What about the others? Where are Potter, and Weasley?”

“They are alright. Everyone is alright. Well except George, he lost an ear but…”

He did not understand a thing.

“I’m going to ask you once again. What. Happened?”

She sighed and began recounting the events. The more she said, the more he felt anger rise in his chest. When she was finally done, he had broken free from her arms and was looking at her with cool eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you would do that?” his voice was sharp, and he saw her flinch.

“I… It was my decision to make. Everything was supposed to go smoothly.”

“Smoothly? YOU COULD HAVE BEEN KILLED, HERMIONE. YOU WERE CHASED BY THE DARK LORD HIMSELF. DO YOU KNOW HOW DANGEROUS HE IS?”

“I know, Draco, I know. But I had to be there!” she said, trying to defend her actions.

“THEY SHOULD NOT HAVE LET YOU GO.”

“REALLY?” she screamed back. “WE NEEDED PEOPLE! HARRY NEEDED ME THERE!”

She seemed furious and her eyes were glaring daggers.

“WHAT ABOUT ME THEN?” he asked, beside himself. “WHAT IF YOU HAD BEEN KILLED? YOU WOULD HAVE LEFT ME WONDERING WHAT HAD HAPPENED ON MY OWN?”

“I… NOTHING HAPPENED, DRACO. I’M NOT DEAD!”

“YES, BUT WHAT IF YOU WERE? I DON’T WANT YOU TO DIE. POTTER IS NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO NEEDS YOU!”

She did not answer, and he saw that she was crying again, hugging herself tightly. He felt his heart fall and immediately took her in his arms. They stayed like this a long time before he worked up the courage to say something.

“Fuck Hermione I’m sorry I screamed. I’m glad you’re fine…” he said softly.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loooove Draco's reaction! I think deep down something is happening, don't you think? ;)
> 
> And, am I the only one thinking this plan was stupid? No, really? I suppose they had no other choice, but still.


	6. The Forest of Dean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New week, new chapter!  
> I hope you will enjoy it, too :)
> 
> Krummbein
> 
> Ps: do I need to thank Enderfem again for correcting this chapter?

Hermione had been up for three hours when Harry and Ron came down for breakfast. Mrs. Weasley had not let them have a break since she had arrived, and she had felt shameful when she had sneaked into the house in order to find the rest of the Polyjuice she knew Moody had left somewhere. She had needed almost an hour to get past the enchantments of his trunk, and she was happy it only had the minimal protection because he had been at a safe place at the time. Hermione also had enough time to go to the laundry room to take some of the boys’ clothes, and she would only need to take the rest of Harry’s tomorrow before the wedding. They would surely leave after that, late in the night, when everyone was finally asleep.

She and Mrs. Delacour had discussed a lot in French while she had breakfast, and she had been positively surprised to learn that the woman was _not_ stupid. Maybe she should have known, Fleur had been selected for the Tournament after all. She was still reading when she heard that her boys were in the kitchen, and she hurried there with her present.

“Happy birthday, Harry!” she said. “It’s not much, but I hope you like it. What did you get him?” she added to Ron, who seemed not to hear her.

“Come on, then, open Hermione’s!” answered Ron, a bit quickly.

Hum, that was weird. Maybe she did not want to know what he had bought. Surely something like _Women in Quidditch, who’s got the biggest bludgers in the team?_ She sincerely hoped it was not the case, because she did not really like when women were sexualized like that.

Harry opened her present – a Sneakoscope, something that would be _useful_ – and thanked her before taking another package, this time from the Delacours. When he was finally done, they went back to their rooms and she took his presents from his arms, hoping to put them in her bag. They were interrupted by the sound of a door and Ginny’s head appeared.

“Harry, will you come in here a moment?”

Ron stopped, but she decided they could give their friends some privacy – she absolutely did not want to know what kind – and, taking her friend by the elbow, she forced him to go upstairs.

“Mione, leave me alone.”

“No, Ronald. Your sister is allowed to give Harry her present without you being here.”

“But ‘Mione, don’t you see? She thinks she can make him change his mind about them!”

“She does not. She knows why he did that. Leave them, Ron.”

“No. I don’t want him to give her the impression that something is still possible between them. I’ll go find him.”

“Ron!”

But before she could stop him, he had already disappeared.

* * *

Ginny seemed to behave perfectly normally for the hours that followed, but Hermione knew better than to trust what she saw. And, seeing Harry, something had definitely happened. And had been stopped. Stupid Ron. They were preparing Harry’s birthday feast and she made purple and gold streamers erupt from the end of her wand. Not quite the Gryffindor colors but she did not want to be reminded that they would maybe never see the common room again.

“Nice,” said Ron who had appeared behind her. “You’ve really got an eye for that sort of thing.”

“Thank you, Ron!” she said, pleased but a bit confused. What on Earth was happening to him? Adulthood, maybe? She could not remember a single time when he had made a compliment only to be nice, and not just so that she would accept to help him with his homework. And she had a really good memory.

After a few blessed minutes for herself during which she finally had the time to shower and change, she went back to the garden to see that the guest had arrived. Hagrid was happily chatting with Harry and she spoke for a bit with Tonks until it was time to eat. Mrs. Weasley finally decided that they could begin without her husband when a silver weasel arrived, telling them that he was coming back with the Minister of Magic. Tonks and Lupin only had a minute to disappear before the two men appeared across the yard and came toward the table.

“Sorry to intrude,” said Scrimgeour, as he limped to a halt before the table. “Especially as I can see that I am gate-crashing a party.”

His eyes lingered for a moment on the giant Snitch cake.

“Many happy returns.”

“Thanks,” said Harry.

“I require a private word with you,” Scrimgeour went on. “Also with Mr. Ronald Weasley and Miss Hermione Granger.”

“Us?” said Ron, sounding surprised. “Why us?”

“I shall tell you that when we are somewhere more private,” said Scrimgeour. “Is there such a place?” he demanded of Mr. Weasley.

“Yes, of course,” said Mr. Weasley, who looked nervous. “The, er, sitting room, why don’t you use that?”

“You can lead the way,” Scrimgeour said to Ron. “There will be no need for you to accompany us, Arthur.”

Bewildered, Hermione, Ron and Harry followed the Minister into the house and politely waited for him to begin.

“I have some questions for the three of you, and I think it will be best if we do it individually. If you two” — he pointed at Harry and Hermione — “can wait upstairs, I will start with Ronald.”

“We’re not going anywhere,” said Harry, while she nodded vigorously. “You can speak to us together, or not at all.”

Scrimgeour gave Harry a cold, appraising look. Harry had the impression that the Minister was wondering whether it was worthwhile opening hostilities this early.

“Very well then, together,” he said, shrugging. He cleared his throat. “I am here, as I’m sure you know, because of Albus Dumbledore’s will.”

She and Ron exchanged a worried look. What could it possibly mean?

* * *

**Later that night**

Hermione crossed the wards, positive that Draco was already waiting for her. Indeed he was, and it seemed that he had just begun brewing another pot of tisane.

“This is a terribly domestic scene, Granger,” he said with a smirk.

She had to agree with him, but thought it was funny to see him as the perfect house-wife.

“So, any news? Did Potter survive his birthday?”

“Well _dear_ ,” she said jokingly, “the Minister himself came to the party.”

Malfoy stopped pouring the water and looked up.

“That’s strange. Suspect, even. Did he try to do anything? I know that _they_ have spies on the ministry, but Scrimgeour looked like he would not be imperiused easily.”

“He was not,” she said while sitting on the large sofa. “He came because of Dumbledore’s will.”

“… he should have come sooner.”

“Yes. I’m sure they wanted to examine the objects he left us. Apparently, they did not find anything and they just had to give us everything they had kept.”

“You got anything?”

“Yup. A book.”

“Ah, I should have known. Which one?”

“The Tales of Beedle the Bard.”

“Really? Why would he give you that?”

“I have no idea really. It was his own copy and I’ll have to translate it; I think maybe there is a message or something like that.”

“That’s something he would do for sure. Did Potter and Weasel get anything?”

“ _Ronald_ and Harry got something, yes. Ron had the Deluminator – I’ll explain in a moment – and Harry the first Snitch he caught.”

“The first one? The one he…”

“Yes,” she said excitedly. “The Minister did not know but Harry put it in his mouth after he had left and something happened!”

“What? Did it open?”

“No, but a riddle appeared. _I open at the close_. We think the Snitch will open when we find the answer.”

“I open at the close…” Malfoy was already trying to find what it meant. “I’ll try to think about it, but Dumbledore probably wanted the riddle to be cracked at a certain time.”

“Oh, I had not thought of that. I hope it won’t be in the middle of a battle,” she said darkly.

“Yes, let’s hope. Do you want your mug?” he asked, showing the one she had brought from her house.

“Please. So, about the boys…”

“Still no idea how to break the news?”

“Nope.”

She was playing with her spoon, trying to forget about the headache she had when talking about that particular topic.

“They won’t be happy, will they?”

“They won’t. I’m almost sure Ron will try to punch you.”

“So predictable. He’s got a wand, why not use it?”

“Draco, I won’t play the referee for your childish quarrels. Even if I have to admit that Ron has changed at one point during the holidays, he will try to get to you when he sees you. So please, try to behave like an adult.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

They carefully drank their hot beverage for a few minutes before Malfoy interrupted.

“What do you mean, Weasley has changed?”

“Well… He gave me another compliment. Without asking for anything in return.”

“Strange. Maybe he found a guide, like ‘how to talk to a normal being for dummies’”.

“Malfoy,” she admonished.

“No but I mean really, the guy does not know how to behave in society. It’s like he never had any lessons about civility.”

“Not everyone can hire a private tutor.”

“You don’t need a tutor for the basics. Like saying _thank you_ , or _please_.”

“Ronald knows that very well.”

“Really? If that was the case, you would not be surprised by a mere compliment.”

“That discussion is closed,” she said, cheeks reddening. “We better come up with a plan for tomorrow. I don’t want to finish this mission with Harry because you and Ron killed each other.”

“… Weasley doesn’t even know how to hold his wand.”

“DRACO.”

* * *

Hermione had woken up feeling excited. She had never been to a wedding, less a wizard wedding, and she was certain that today was going to be wonderful! She was happy they had decided to stay until tomorrow (she was certain Molly would have been able to find them anywhere if they had left before her son’s big day) and hoped she would learn a lot about wizarding wedding customs by the end of the day. Maybe she could ask Mrs. Weasley if she had a book about them. After all, she _had_ organized everything, she must have found the instructions somewhere!

It was now almost three o’clock and she was trying to finish putting on her make-up while Ginny was insulting her own dress.

“I hate that color. Why Fleur insisted I should wear it I will never know.”

“Maybe she heard you call her ‘Phlegm’.”

“Oh yes, maybe. Then I don’t mind,” grinned her friend while finally buttoning her gown. “Are you done? I don’t want to be late.”

“I am,” she said, joining her friend at the door. “Are you going to Bill’s old room?”

“Yes. I need to help Gabrielle with her hair.”

They parted, and Hermione came down the stairs.

“… you should have asked me, Molly. I know everything about weddings. With any luck, this one won’t be too bad. Of course, I’ll have to take the tiara back at the end of the day, but surely that _French girl_ will understand that. Is she really quarter-Veela? I thought it was only a…” the old woman Hermione had heard stopped when she saw her, and said “Oh dear, is this the Muggle-born?”

“Yes, aunt Muriel,” sighed Mrs. Weasley. “This is Hermione, one of Ron’s friends.”

The old woman looked at her from head to toes before stating “Bad posture and skinny ankles.”

Hermione opened her mouth to answer but Molly had already taken her aunt by the arm and told her that Fleur and the other girls were waiting for them. Furious, she decided to go back to her room to calm down.

Ten minutes later, she heard the shrill voice of Muriel indicating that she was leaving the house and decided it was time for her to go to the tent where the wedding would take place. When she arrived, she immediately spotted her boys and was amazed to hear a new compliment from her red-headed friend.

“Always the tone of surprise,” she said while smiling. Still, it was nice to know he had _finally_ noticed that she was a girl. They were soon joined by the twins, and Hermione grinned at them. They knew how to make her laugh, that was sure. She felt her problems disappear when she talked to them.

She was laughing so hard that she did not hear the last guest coming. It was only when he gave Ron his invitation that she saw who he was.

“You look vunderful,” he told her, a huge smile on his face.

“Viktor!” she shrieked, and dropped her small beaded bag, which made a loud thump quite disproportionate to its size. As she scrambled, blushing, to pick it up, she said, “I didn’t know you were —goodness — it’s lovely to see — how are you?”

They had no time to discuss, however, because Ron decided to be disagreeable once again, and Harry rapidly took Viktor by the arm to show him his seat and left her with a red-eared Ronald.

“Why do you always have to be so _rude_ to him?” she asked. Surely, he could not still be jealous? Had he not picked up the signs she had been sending since last year? Maybe she had a soft spot for Krum – he had been her first lover after all – but really…

Luckily for her Harry came back quickly and the twins told them to go find their seats before the wedding began. They had been seated for only two minutes when the bride arrived, arm linked with her father.

* * *

A few hours later, Hermione was still thinking that the ceremony was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen in her life, and her heart skipped a beat when she tried to imagine herself in Fleur’s shoes. They had been seating at Luna’s table when Victor dropped into the empty seat. She felt her face grow hot again but before she could wonder if he was going to ask her for a dance, Ron had already asked. Pleased, she followed him and they took place among the other couples, both dancing awkwardly. Ron was not the best dancer she had encountered, and it took a few minutes before they were able to adjust to each other. They danced together comfortably before he finally spoke.

“So, everything is ready?”

“Yes,” she told him. “I think it would be good to stay until the end and leave before everyone is up. I’m sure you parents will stay in bed later than usual.”

“Yeah,” he told her before falling silent. “What do you think will happen? I mean, I’ve written mum a letter, and I’ve told my brothers but still, I wish we could do something without leaving them.”

“They will be alright, Ron,” she said, trying to keep up with his steps. “They have magic, which my parents did not have. They are protected by the Minister, and Moody himself set up the wards.”

“… Yeah right.”

“Ronald, do you know you have some Wrackspurt all over your face?”

“What?”

Luna had appeared behind them and was looking at him with piercing eyes.

“Yes, just there. You must be thinking of something really sad.”

“Alright. Hum Mione, would you like some butterbeer?”

Hermione nodded and headed towards Harry’s table but her attention got caught by Viktor abruptly leaving Xenophilius Lovvegood. She drew up a chair beside her friend and sat down.

“I simply can’t dance anymore,” she panted, slipping off one of her shoes and rubbing the sole of her foot. “Ron’s gone looking to find more butterbeers. It’s a bit odd, I’ve just seen Viktor storming away from Luna’s father, it looked like they’d been arguing —” She dropped her voice, staring at him. “Harry, are you okay?” 

But before her friend could answer, a beautiful lynx arrived on the dance-floor, and all of the dancers froze. His mouth opened and she recognized Kingsley’s voice.

“ _The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming_.”

She did no _t_ waste any time. Taking Harry’s hand, she threw herself among the guests and cried Ron’s name. From the corner of her eyes, she saw cloaked figures appear and began panicking _. Where is he?_ Already, some guest had begun fighting, and she glimpsed red hairs dancing in front of her eyes – _Fred! Or George?_ She could not tell from where she was.

“Ron! Ron!” she screamed, feeling Harry squeezing her hand.

And then, she saw him, trying to reach for them. Without any hesitation, she grabbed his arm and twisted, disappearing through the night.

* * *

“Where are we?” said Ron’s voice.

Harry slowly opened his eyes, trying to have a look at his surroundings. In front of him were only trees, and he wondered where Hermione had taken them.

“The Forest of Dean. That’s where we were supposed to go tomorrow if everything had gone accordingly to the plan.”

“HOLLY SHIT. HERMIONE, BEHIND ME!” shouted Ron.

Harry jumped, ready to fire at the man who had appeared in front of them, a wand secured in his hand.

“Malfoy?”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're like me, you've been waiting for the last part of that chapter for weeks! (But obviously, I knew it was going to happen at some point). And hiiiii Harry's POV! 
> 
> The next chapter is going to be interesting, don't you think??
> 
> Krummbein


	7. 12, Grimmauld Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's March!  
> It means warmer days and spring! And rain, too. That, I already have. 
> 
> I'm talking, I'm talking, and you should be reading.  
> Please, enjoy this (beta-read!) chapter!
> 
> Krummbein

“Ron no! He’s with us!”

Hermione’s scream was unexpected, and Harry glanced in her direction. She had moved away from their group and was now between Ron and Malfoy, who looked at them quizzically.

“Hermione, come back behind me; he’s dangerous!” Ron was growling, threateningly moving his wand in Malfoy’s direction.

“Really Weasley? ‘Get behind me?’ You think Hermione cannot take care of herself?”

Harry was genuinely surprised when he heard his nemesis speak. But what surprised him most was to see Hermione hit his shoulder and rudely ask him to mind his own business.

“DON’T CALL HER THAT,” shouted Ron again. “Hermione, he’s going to attack you, come here quickly.”

“I heard you the first time, Ronald,” she said dryly. “And if _you_ had listened, you would have heard me telling you that _he_ _was with us_.”

Ron starred at her, then at Harry.

“Do you… do you think he’s imperiused her?”

That seemed to anger Hermione more, and she groaned.

“If you would just listen to me, both of you…”

“Ron,” Harry said, thinking quickly to understand the situation. “Maybe we should try to understand what’s happening. He’s not attacked us yet, and I don’t think Hermione would be that easily imperiused.”

His friend looked hurt, and Harry had the feeling he had just made things worse.

“Look,” began Hermione, sensing that it was the moment to speak. “I’ve been living with him for a month since Snape brought him and…”

She had no time to finish her sentence, however, because both him and Ron had shouted at the same time.

“YOU SAW SNAPE?”

“HE WAS LIVING WITH YOU?”

“Merlin, will you let me explain, yes or no?”

“Explain? Explain what?” Ron was furious. “From what I see, you were contacted by a fucking _traitor,_ and you lived with that Death Eater _scum_ without informing us. Seems like we’re not the only ones you fucked,” he spat at her.

There was a sharp noise, and Harry saw that Hermione had moved forward and slapped Ron across the face. Another noise came and he spotted Malfoy who had pulled out his wand and hexed the red-headed before Hermione could stop him.

“Is that how you treat your friends, Weasley? By implying degrading things like that?”

“Like you should be the one telling me how to treat my friends, scum. Look at what you said to your bodyguards,” Ron said dryly, trying to find the counter-hex.

“But they’re not my friends, Weasley, and that’s the difference. Granger is your _best_ friend, and you just insulted her.”

That was a reaction Harry had not expected at all. Malfoy, standing up for Hermione. He pinched himself just to be sure. Nope, not a dream.

“Guys,” he said weakly, trying to ease the tension. “Why don’t we let Hermione finish her story? If you have proof of what you say, of course,” he added in her direction.

She looked at him for a few seconds before rolling her sleeve up and casting a spell on her right arm. She then lit the point of her wand and directed it on her wrist, where Harry could see small lines that seemed to be engraved in her skin.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Unbreakable Vow.”

“YOU DID…”

Malfoy quickly silenced Ron and let Hermione explain.

“Snape and Malfoy both took the Veritaserum I brewed and Malfoy agreed to make a Vow. As you _should_ know, you cannot take one if you are unwilling, or imperiused,” she said, glaring at Ron.

“So you’re positive he’s with us,” Harry asked. “For real?”

“Yes.”

She looked sure of herself.

“Okay,” he said.

Ron kicked the ground with his foot but they all ignored him.

“Okay,” he repeated. “I’m ready to listen. But no more secrets.”

* * *

Ron had refused to stay in the same room as Malfoy for the majority of the story, but Harry had done his best to concentrate and understand what had happened. When they were done, he put his head in his hands and sighted.

“I can’t believe you. I mean I kind of do, but this is hard to accept.”

“I know Harry,” Hermione told him. “That was hard for me too. But we decided to work together and in the end I’m glad he was here when… Well I’m glad he was here.”

“Right,” Harry said. “I think we are both going to need some… time to adjust to the situation,” he continued, looking at Ron.

“Like I’ve got a fucking choice.”

“Ron,” Harry tried, “I don’t like Malfoy either, In fact I think I hate him…”

“Feeling’s mutual, Potter,” said the blond with a grin.

“… But Dumbledore obviously wanted him with us, and I think there’s a reason.”

“Well,” retorted his friend. “ _I_ think that Dumbledore was apparently too old to think properly and that he should not have done that.”

Harry felt what was left of his patience leave him.

“Well _I_ did not ask any of you to come. I wanted to be alone. But you insisted and I’m glad you’re both with me. But _I’m_ the one in charge, Ron, and _I_ say that Malfoy stays.”

Both men glared at each other before Ron slightly backed up and nodded.

“Alright. But I don’t trust him. And I don’t want him involved too much. Because believe it or not, he will betray us and get us to his side as soon as the occasion presents itself. Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater,” he added towards Malfoy.

“Thank you for your kind words, Weasel.”

“Draco!” Hermione silenced him. “Well now that it’s settled, does anyone want something to drink before I show you your rooms?”

“I’ll pass,” said Ron. “Since _my_ family might be in danger, I’d like to try to contact them.”

“How?” she asked. “If they are monitored you could lead the Death Eaters to us.”

“Speaking of them,” interrupted Malfoy, “better not try to say the Dark Lord’s name.”

“Vol…” began Harry.

Malfoy jumped and stopped him from saying the name aloud.

“STOP BEING STUPID, POTTER.” He released his grip on him and Harry glared at the blond. “If he’s got the Ministry, then he can enforce a Taboo.”

“A what?”

“It’s an easy way to find people who talk about things they should not. If you say it, people will be here in only a second and will put wards so that you cannot apparate away.”

“Alright sorry, I won’t do that again,” Harry said, feeling a bit stupid. “I s’ppose I can thank you for that.”

A silver Patronus suddenly appeared in the room, startling everyone.

“Shit!” exclaimed Ron, who had pulled his wand from his robes.

“ _Family safe, do not reply, we are being watched_ ,” said the weasel with Mr. Weasley’s voice.

Ron let out a sigh and Harry himself felt the pressure he did not know he had leave him. Ginny was alright…

“Good,” he said. “I was beginning to worry. Maybe we can contact them later.”

“Yes,” answered his best friend. “I’d like that.”

Harry turned around to see Hermione, who had begun explaining to Malfoy what had happened.

“Hermione, I have a question.”

“Yes?”

“Do you think we could go to Grimmauld Place? Ron’s dad said Moody had put jinxes on it against Snape, and if he is not a traitor then maybe he did not tell… You-Know-Who where it is,” he said, grimacing.

“I don’t know Harry,” she answered, uncertain. “I’m not sure it’s a wise idea. Maybe he asked, and put some Death Eaters there.”

“You’ve got a house-elf in that house, right Potter?” said Malfoy, thinking.

“Yes.”

“If you summon him in a place where a wizard could not apparate away, maybe we can ask him if we can come. And for the place itself, the Dark Lord did not really care where it was. It’s you and Dumbledore he wanted so if the house is clear we could strengthen the wards that are already there and put it under a Fidelius Charm again.”

“Do you think that would work?” he asked, hopeful. He did not mind the tent too much, but Sirius’s house would be better. It was home, now.

“Yes. If Herm… Granger can work on that, I think it will take her more or less one week to master the spell. After that, we can summon the house-elf and secure the place.”

Harry would have gladly answered to Malfoy’s idea but felt the pain in his scar burning and knew he had to find a place where he could hide.

“Bathroom?” he muttered, glancing at Hermione.

“Yours is that way. But Harry are you alr…”

He did not let her finish her sentence and went there as soon as it was possible in his state.

* * *

Harry nervously glanced at the small circle they had drawn on the ground.

“Are you sure this will work?”

“Yes Potter. You can ask Hermione for confirmation. Or verify in the book if you want.”

“Nah, s’alright. Should I summon Kreacher?”

“Unless you think we should wait, yes.”

It was the middle of the night, and only the small flames Hermione had conjured were casting light around them. They had decided this time was the best: if the elf was not alone, the Death Eaters would be less vigilant and would not be able to see anything if they came with side-along apparition. Furthermore, the site was far from their tent, so they knew they could apparate away if they needed to. Hermione had even shown them a spot where they would have to apparate before going back to their hiding spot if something went wrong.

“Alright then. Kreacher.”

The elf instantly appeared within the circle and scanned his surroundings. He was alone.

“Master called Kreacher,” he croaked.

“Yes. Kreacher, I command you to tell me if someone came to the house since the beginning of the summer.”

The elf watched him warily and answered.

“Only two people came, Master. A man with dark hair, the one who did not like my Mistress’s traitor of a son.” Ignoring the insult, they all exchanged a look. Why would Severus come there? “And another one came less than one week ago. The wolf one.”

“Lupin? Do you know what he wanted?”

“Kreacher knows not, Master. The wolf left an envelope to Kreacher and told Kreacher to give it to his Master if Kreacher saw him. Does Master want his letter?” he finished, taking an envelope from his habit.

“Um yes, _thanks_ Kreacher.”

He hastily took the paper from the envelope and began reading.

“What does it say, Harry?” asked Ron, eager for more news about his family.

“Well… He gives us some news. Says that thanks to Kingsley’s warning, most of the guests were able to apparate away, and that Scrimgeour did not say anything about me when they tortured him. He also says that most of the Order’s houses were searched, and that apparently the Ghoul did the trick. The Tonks were tortured,” he said darkly. “Ah, and I’m a public enemy, although I should have seen that coming. Hum. They’ve started a Muggle-born Registration Commission. There’s a copy of the Prophet, if someone wants it?” He handed it to Hermione, who began reading it so fast that her eyes seemed to disappear. “The only thing I don’t understand is the end.”

“What do you mean, Potter?”

Kreacher, who had been silent since he had given Harry his letter, suddenly jumped and looked at Malfoy with big eyes.

“Young Master Malfoy?”

“What, me?” asked the blond perplex. “Do we know each other?”

“Um,” coughed Harry a bit nervously. “I may or may not have asked him to watch you last year.”

Malfoy glared daggers at him but said nothing. Maybe he had suspected something like that.

“Is Master Potter working with young Master Malfoy?”

“Erm yes, I am,” confirmed Malfoy, glancing away from Harry.

Kreacher seemed to have forgotten how to speak for a moment, but suddenly straightened and spoke.

“Kreacher can help the Master if he needs it, Master Potter. Kreacher is a good elf, and Kreacher loves Miss Cissy and Miss Bella. If Miss Cissy’s son is helping Master Potter, then Kreacher will help him too,” he said, proudly.

Ron whistled, impressed, and even Hermione seemed shocked.

“Well Kreacher,” Harry told him, catching up the opportunity, “if you can assure me that no-one else came, and that there are no Death Eaters in the house, then you can help us pack our things and take us back with you.”

Kreacher smiled from ear to ear, and Harry found it was frightening to see him like this.

* * *

“ _Homenum revelio”_

Hermione had spoken quietly, still hanging on to Draco who was holding Harry’s cloak above them. They had appeared in the garden and, when they were sure that nobody was there, they sent a message to Harry who soon arrived with Ron and Kreacher. Both of them had been disillusioned, and it took them a few minutes to find each other.

“Ok, Ron and I are going to reinforce the wards already in place, and I’ll leave you both to the Fidelius Charm,” Harry said.

She agreed and spent the next twenty minutes going around and into the house to set up the new wards of the charm. She was glad for Harry’s cloak, as she and Malfoy saw three Death Eaters standing not far from the house, apparently surveilling everyone approaching the place.

“Do you think they can see the house?”

“No, if that was the case, they would be in. Maybe the Dark Lord changed his mind and Severus could not tell him precisely where it was? He’s a master legilimens and I’m pretty sure that if he could lie about my death, he’ll be able to lie about knowing the precise address of the house.”

“That’s a relief. Well now that I’ve added the Fidelius, I think we’re clear.”

“Indeed. Should we go back inside and tell Potter it’s done?”

“Lead the way.”

They found both boys in the kitchen, where Kreacher was preparing a treacle tart for them.

“Harry, it’s four in the morning,” she admonished, looking at the old elf who was now serving huge slices on their places.

“I was hungry,” he said innocently. “Kreacher asked if we wanted something, so…”

“I love treacle tart,” said Draco. “Would you mind making some tea, too?” he asked the elf.

“Kreacher is happy to serve, Master Malfoy. Do Master’s Potter friend want something?”

Kreacher was eyeing her, but for once not in a bad way. It seemed that her talking to Draco had changed his attitude towards her, at least a bit.

“No thank you. I think I’ll just go upstairs and try to sleep a little bit. Oh, and Harry, have you seen what Moody left?”

“The ahem. The dusty... thing?”

“Yeah Potter, the dusty Dumbledore-thing. _Not_ a good experience.”

She looked at Malfoy. Of course, he had not liked seeing that. He had almost murdered the man himself!

“Yeah right. Do you think we can do something about… him?”

“I’m not sure.” told him Hermione. “But good news, Draco silenced Sirius’s mother!”

“What? How did you do that, mate?” Ron had apparently forgotten that he hated Malfoy.

“Nothing. Just said that I was a Malfoy and asked her to shut up or I would blast the wall where she was.”

“Blast the wall…? Blimey, that’s a good idea,” said Ron.

“Yeah, the portrait cannot be removed but if the wall is not here anymore…” continued Harry. “Good job, Malfoy.”

“I’m not sure I really did anything, but you’re welcome.” He stopped for a second, confused by the boy’s reactions. “Tea?”

* * *

“Hermione, come back up here.”

Harry’s voice was calm, and she wondered if he had discovered something.

“What’s the matter?”

“R.A.B. I think I’ve found him.”

She gasped and shouted for Ron and Draco to come while she ran back up the stairs.

“In your mum’s letter? But I didn’t see – “

She saw him point at the sign of the room where Draco had stayed and was astounded to see the name written on it.

_Regulus Arcturus Black_

“Oh my God. Is it Sirius’s brother?”

“I think so. I know he was a Death Eater and died really young but no one knows what really happened. Maybe he did not like what he saw and decided to act against You-Know-Who?”

“Yeah, that’s totally possible! He was Sirius’s brother, after all, maybe they had more in common than they thought,” she added with a quick smile. 

“What’s happening?”

Ron had appeared, panting, and was looking at them.

“We found him!”

“Who?”

“R.A.B. Ron! The locket! Don’t you understand?”

“You mean? His brother?” he asked when he saw his friend pointing at the door. “He took it? But that means…”

“Hermione! Something wrong?” Draco had appeared above them, his wand ready to fire.

“Not at all, Draco. We just found out who R.A.B. was.”

“The guy who left a note on the false Horcrux?”

“You told him about that too?” asked Ron bitterly.

“Ronald don’t be stupid. Of course, I told him. Snape mentioned them.”

“Still, the less he knows, the better.”

“And how do you want me to help if you leave important information like this one?” snapped Draco in his direction.

“Well you don’t, and you go back from where you came.”

“Ron, Malfoy that’s enough. Let’s go search his room for the locket. Or better, ask Kreacher if he knows anything. He liked Regulus so maybe he’ll remember it,” decided Harry.

“Harry…” she suddenly said. “There was a locket. In that horrible cabinet in the drawing room.”

“Shit,” he managed to say. “Do you think we tossed it?”

“Maybe not,” said Ron hopeful. “Remember how Kreacher nicked things and kept them in his room? The locket was huge, maybe he took it too?”

Both boys looked at each other before running down the stairs and going to the kitchen, leaving Hermione and Draco alone. He stared at her, silently asking what this conversation was about but she shrugged and mouthed “later” before motioning for him to follow her to the kitchen.

“Kreacher!” she heard Harry call as they arrived.

The old elf appeared in front of them, a feather duster in one hand.

“Yes Master?” croaked the elf before bowing low.

“Tell me Kreacher. Do you remember a big locket that was in the drawing room upstairs and that we threw out?”

The elf seemed perplex but answered positively.

“Did you st… take it back?”

“… Yes.”

Hermione felt her heart jump. They had found one!

“Can you give it to me?”

Kreacher shivered.

“Kreacher does not have the locket anymore, Master.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mundungus Flecher. Mundungus Fletcher stole it all: Miss Bella’s and Miss Cissy’s pictures, my Mistress’s gloves, the Order of Merlin, First Class, the goblets with the family crest, and — and —”

The poor elf seemed to have difficulties breathing and suddenly, he let out a scream that made the hairs on Hermione’s neck stand up.

“— _and the locket, Master Regulus’s locket, Kreacher did wrong, Kreacher failed in his orders_!”

Harry jumped on the elf and stopped him from beating himself with the poker.

“Potter,” said Draco, “order you elf to stay still. And you, Kreacher. Why do you say the locket was ‘Master’s Regulus’?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaah, good old dear Ronald. So sensible. 
> 
> And Kreacher! I'd never really thought of him before, but now I'm happy to say he is going to be important in my fic :) maybe I should become a S.P.E.W. member? 
> 
> Please, tell me what you thought of this chapter!
> 
> See you next week!  
> Krummbein


	8. Waiting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally know how many chapters this fic has! And I only need to write two more for it to be complete (on my computer, haha, you'll have to wait). Saddly, I've been trying to write chapter 16 for two weeks and it's hard... But don't worry, I'll do it. In the meantime, enjoy this chapter, beta-read by Enderfem. 
> 
> Krummbein

“Poor Kreacher,” sighed Hermione once again.

They were around the table of the kitchen, quietly eating dinner. Potter had excused the elf and had cooked himself. Apparently, he had learned the hard way at his relatives’ but he was really good in Draco’s opinion, and he wondered how it was possible for someone with his talent to have failed almost all of his potions.

“Is he always like that?” he asked.

“Like what?”

“Well you know… Trying to punish himself, that sort of thing?”

Harry looked at him quizzically.

“I thought Dobby was your father’s elf.”

“Indeed. But as you just said, it was my father’s elf. My mother and I never treated our personal elves like that, or the ones working at the Manor.”

“Really?” he asked. “But he’s not the only one. I mean you never saw Winky but she was kind of special too.”

“Harry please, let’s not have this conversation right now,” murmured Ron, glancing at Hermione who was apparently preparing herself to give her usual speech against elf’s treatment.

“Yeah right,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’m sure Malfoy will explain later how they treat their elves. Why don’t we try to run through the Horcruxes list while we’re here?” he added quickly. “Maybe we’ll find something useful.”

“Alright” said Hermione, a suspicious gaze still on Draco. “Let’s see. There’s the Diary first, which you destroyed during our second year, Harry.”

Draco looked at Potter who was slightly nodding, as if he remembered how it had happened. He could not recollect anything involving Potter and a diary. The Potion Book of Severus had been during their sixth year. He would ask Hermione later.

“We’ve the ring, which was destroyed by Dumbledore last year.” She paused a moment, and Draco felt guilt cripple him. “And we know that Salazar’s Locket is one too. With any luck, we should have it before the end of the week.”

She seemed happy by this prospect but he was not sure he felt as ecstatic as her, knowing that one part of the Dark Lord’s soul would soon be near him.

“That leaves three of them. We suspect Helga’s cup, Rowena’s tiara and the snake.”

“The snake?” he was baffled. To trust a snake with a part of one’s soul?

“Yes,” repeated Potter. “The snake. Dumbledore said it was dangerous to do so, but he thought that their… relationships were too unusual to be put aside.”

“So… you’re not even sure that this in a Horcrux?”

“No.”

“Good. Very good. That helps a lot,” he carried on, his voice full of irony.

“Thanks Draco, really improving the mood,” Hermione declared, rolling her eyes. “Anything you know about the other two?”

“Not at all. I’ve never heard about the cup, and the only tiara I remember seeing recently was…” he stopped abruptly, picturing the stone bust of an old man wearing a wig and an old tiara. “The Room of Requirement!”

“What?” asked Hermione.

“In the Room, there was a bust with a wig and…”

“… He had a tiara!” finished Potter. “Yes, I remember it when I…” he winced “…I mean I’ve seen it too! Do you think this is it?”

“There are other tiaras,” interrupted Weasley, grumbling. “How can we know it’s this one?”

“We can’t you’re right,” continued Potter. “But I think this is a good lead. It’s in the castle, after all, and Hogwarts is the first place He considered as home. And let’s not forget that he thought he knew everything. Maybe he found the room and imagined he was the only one with access. He came back at least once after his seventh year. I can easily picture him putting the Horcruxe in the room after Dumbledore refused to give him the job he wanted. Must have found it hilarious.”

“We have to be sure this is the right one but it means we have to go to Hogwarts by ourselves,” said Hermione. “How do we manage that? The castle is protected, and with Dumbledore gone and You-Know-Who in power, I’m not sure we will access it easily.”

“Why not ask one of your friends,” offered Draco. “With the coins, you can contact any of them.”

“That’s out of the question,” interrupted Potter. “I don’t want anyone else involved. Besides, we’re not sure they want the school reopened.”

“Well then maybe go to Hogsmeade and take the tunnel?” asked Weasley. “If two of us take the cloak, that’s possible.”

“We can’t be sure that Hogsmeade won’t be under surveillance. We will have to plan carefully. I think we should first focus on the locket, and how to destroy it.”

“Yeah, how do you plan to do that?” he asked. “From what I read in your books, Hermione, there are few options and I’m not sure you can control fiendfyre or find a basilisk.”

“We had a basilisk,” began Weasley. “But Harry killed it.”

Draco opened and shut his mouth at least four times before finally being able to say something.

“You… killed a basilisk?”

“Yeah. With Gryffindor’s sword. In second year.”

Potter was grinning widely. For once, Draco had to recognize that maybe, just maybe, Potter had balls.

“Wow. I had not understood that when Hermione mentioned it to her parents,” he said, trying to forget what had happened to them when he saw her shudder. “How come you had the sword with you?”

But Hermione stopped him, a huge smile on her lips.

“Harry, the sword!”

“Yes, what about it?”

“Dumbledore wanted you to have it, remember? It’s goblin-made, that means it kept the venom!”

“So what, if we have the sword, we can take care of the Horcruxes?” asked Weasley, trying to keep up.

“Yes probably,” continued Hermione, leaning forward to take her notebook. “This is definitely an argument in favor of visiting Hogwarts!”

“Okay,” resumed Potter. “First the locket, then Hogwarts. That’s a good start.”

* * *

Kreacher had returned four days later, bearer of bad news. He had found Mundungus Fletcher, but the man was to no use and they had released him after a small memory modification. The wizard was involved in many illegal activities, and the four (more like three) of them decided they could not let him roam around with the information that Draco was still alive.

After a long discussion, often interrupted by Ron’s and Draco’s heated debates, they had set up a plan: Potter, Weasley and Hermione would go to the Ministry every day to monitor Umbridge, and Draco would stay there, sorting out the information that they had found. He and Weasley had already accumulated a lot of useful data about the different Departments and professions inside the Ministry, but they knew it was not enough and would have to find some more.

Based on their memories, Draco had also begun drawing a map of the building, and by now they had a few spots where they knew they could find Umbridge. Hermione had also made them sit for two hours, explaining the different escape routes they had in case they were discovered while surveilling her.

They still had to agree on the best day to act, but Draco was positive it would be around September. By then, they would have found witches and wizards to impersonate and memorize their usual routines.

Draco sat down at the table, thanking Kreacher who had just put a plate of well-baked pancakes in front of him. Taking his wand, he began slicing an apple before taking the latest edition of the Prophet.

“Potter?”

He heard a small commotion, and the Boy-Who-Lived came from the pantry, where he had been trying to steal the last slice of tart before Weasley woke up. Potter apparently decided that Draco would not care if he ate it and put it almost entirely in his mouth.

“Merlin Potter, stop mimicking Weasley’s terrible table manners. Come take a look at this. I think this might help a bit.”

Potter took the newspaper and read the head title aloud.

“ **_’SEVERUS SNAPE CONFIRMED AS HOGWARTS HEADMASTER_ ** **’** Oh. So, it’s going to reopen. Do you think they expect us to be there?”

“I suppose they are not that daft. One thing is sure, I would not want to be in the castle this year. The Dark Lord’s going to put other Death Eaters there, and with all that bullshit of Muggle-born registration I think that the students who are not Pure-blooded or who don’t like the Dark Lord’s agenda are going to suffer. I don’t think they will accept Muggle-borns, though.”

“That would almost be better. Do you think they will go into hiding?”

“For their sake, I hope so,” he sighed. “The ones that are already seventeen won’t have any problems, but I fear for the younger ones, like that boy with the camera.”

He remembered him well, not only because he was terribly annoying but mainly due to the fact that he had been petrified during their second year at Hogwarts.

“Yeah, the Creevey brothers. We had a discussion between Gryffindors after the funerals, I think Lee Jordan was going to organize some sort of hideout.”

“Good. Merlin, I feel terrible for them.” he said after a few seconds. “To think that I… I mean, a few years ago I would have given everything for Hermione, or any other Muggle-born, to be dead. I can’t take that back but fuck, I wish I had never said that. Hermione’s forgiven me, but I don’t think I deserve it at all.”

“Hermione’s the best, that’s sure. But hey, Malfoy, don’t think like that.” said Potter, almost putting his hand on his shoulder before apparently thinking it would be too friendly. “You saw that your beliefs were wrong before it was too late. You did not want to kill Dumbledore. You agreed to help us. You even began to learn more about Muggles while living with them. I mean, in only one year, I think you did rather well.”

“… Yeah. Thanks, Potter,” he said, a small smile on his lips.

“And well, about last year. I uh…” Potter was nervously running his hand through his hairs, creating more mess than usual. “I didn't really want you dead, you know? I was just so obsessed with this business, and nobody was taking me seriously, and I read that spell that said…”

“I already know that, Potter. Hermione explained. No need to make excuses.”

“You almost died…” he seemed embarrassed, but also a bit relieved to be spared the official apologies he still owned Draco.

“Well. At that time, I have to admit… I think that I provoked you because I knew that something could happen. I was looking for an excuse to stop everything and… and maybe I was just hoping to die. I remember, after you hit me with the spell. Everything seemed so peaceful suddenly. I felt nothing, I just… Yeah, maybe I would have welcomed death with open arms.”

Potter was staring at him, obviously trying to process what he had just said.

“Wow Malfoy. That’s…”

“Is there some tart left?”

Weasley had just entered the kitchen and sat loudly on the chair beside Potter. He looked at them, having apparently understood that he had interrupted something.

“Any news?” he asked his friend, ogling Draco’s plate with hungry eyes.

“Yeah um. Snape’s been promoted. He’s going to be Headmaster next year.”

“Snape is going to be Headmaster?” this time, Hermione’s voice was heard, and Draco felt his heart pace quicken when she came behind him to read the title.

“Oh, but that’s wonderful! Harry, he’s going to use Dumbledore’s office!” The Chosen One seemed not to understand the impact it could have on their mission. “Phineas portrait! We can communicate with him!”

“I had not thought of that! I hoped that maybe we would be able to find a way to talk to him, but this is better than I would have imagined! Let’s go upstairs.”

Even after a few weeks in the house, there were still some rooms that Draco had not seen yet. Kreacher had begun cleaning again and was much more efficient than them, but the fact that he was alone and older than Draco’s grandparents slowed him a lot.

The room was clearly Weasley’s, and Draco refrained from commenting on the state of it. They all gathered around a small frame, and Potter cleared his throat before calling for its owner.

“Mr. Black? Sir? It’s Harry Potter. We’d like to talk to you, if you have the time?”

The portrait stayed empty, but Draco heard a voice coming from its depths.

“It’s summer time, Harry Potter. Why don’t you take a break too? Even portraits want holidays.”

“We’re sorry, sir, but this is rather important. It’s about the new Headmaster.”

This time, the voice sounded interested.

“The new Headmaster, uh? A nice man. Such a long time since a Slytherin has been elected. What about him?”

“Can’t you come here?” asked Potter, sounding annoyed. “I don’t really like talking to empty frames.”

The portrait of a clever looking wizard swiftly arrived, apparently irritated by Potter’s attitude.

“You haven’t changed at all, young sir. Still no sense of respect towards your elders. How Dumbledore could appreciate you, I’ll never know. Ah,” he said after looking around. “I see you are not alone. Yes yes, Albus said you would do something like that. Is that the young Malfoy I see with you? Never thought he would agree to come.”

“We’re not here to discuss my decisions, Black. We’re here to ask you a question,” interrupted Draco. That portrait really was beginning to piss him off.

Phineas looked at him, clearly feeling insulted.

“Well, young Malfoy. Your time with Gryffindors has been well-spent, I see. Your beginning to sound more and more like them.”

Ignoring the bait, Draco talked again.

“Can we ask our question, yes or no?”

“You may,” sniffed the portrait, stroking his beard. “But I’ll choose whether or not I agree to answer.”

 _Pompous git_ , thought Draco. _Must be the only fun he has as a portrait_.

“Mr. Black,” Hermione began, her voice polite. “We’d like to know if you’ve had any contact with the new Headmaster. You see, we have not been able to talk to him since the end of June, and we think he would be happy to know we are all alright.”

Phineas looked at her for a moment before finally relaxing a bit against the frame.

“I only saw Headmaster Snape once,” he slowly said. “And it was yesterday. He’s home, for now, but he will be back soon. I may tell him you’ve said hello, if I remember our conversation next time I see him.”

And, with that said, he walked away from his frame before they could stop him.

“Well,” finally said Weasley. “I think he’s going to help.”

* * *

“I should go, Draco.”

“Do you really have to do it? I know it’s important, but can’t Potter and Weasley go together?”

“Harry is enemy Nr. 1, do you remember? I can’t let him go like that.”

“And you’re a Muggle-born, who failed to register at the Commission. I think you’re in danger too.”

“We discussed this already, Draco. I’m going. I’ll have my coin just in case. Maybe you can go talk to Phineas again. Surely, You-Know-Who cannot always be at Hogwarts with Snape.”

“I know. Maybe it was just because of the school start. I hope so. Anyway, now that the castle is reopened, Severus will have to stay there at night. I’ll try after you’re gone.”

“Good. Can you let go of me, now?”

He looked between them, and saw that he had involuntarily grabbed her hand and was nervously stroking it.

“Yeah right,” he said, feeling his cheeks redden. “Just be careful, Granger. The Ministry is not welcoming anymore.”

“It never was,” she said tightly. “We should be back before lunch. Do not wait for us if you’re hungry.”

“Right. Go before I change my mind and forbid you to follow Potter and Weasley. And don’t go all Gryffindor if you can avoid it, Granger.”

“I’ll try,” she answered, before finally leaving his bedroom.

Draco sighed. He did not know why he felt so protective towards her, lately. Maybe it was the fact that both of them had had to leave their family under terrible circumstances. Or maybe making sure that nothing happened to her was his way to thank her for her generosity. Or maybe it was because of that promise he had made to her mother, not so long ago.

He tried to picture the Grangers in Australia. Except for France, Draco had never travelled a lot and he had a hard time trying to imagine the country. The fauna and flora between the muggle and the wizarding world were very different, but seeing the animals and plants that populated the land had made his mind go wild. And the beaches… what he would give for the beaches. Every picture he had seen, the sun was there. He glanced outside.

England was not the sunniest country in the world but since the Dark Lord was back, everywhere seemed gloomier than before. He shuddered, remembering that the Dementors were the main cause of the bad weather. Once again, he thought of his future. Would they defeat the Dark Lord? And then, what would happen to him? Would the Ministry detain him because of his role in Dumbledore’s death, or the attack of the castle? Would they, as Hermione often said, take into consideration the fact that he had been unwilling and blackmailed? He dreaded Azkaban, and for good reason. Maybe his aunt had already been a bit crazy before her stay there, he could not know how bad she had been affected by the prison. But he had seen the difference for his father, and he hoped he would never have to undergo a stay there.

He laid down on his bed and closed his eyes. A small nap, thinking of visiting the Grangers with Hermione, would help him forget his dark thoughts.

* * *

Hermione had shivered when she entered the room, almost thankful that Umbridge had cast her patronus to protect them. And now there she was, almost forty minutes later, writing down the conclusion of the last hearing that had happened in the room. She felt terrible. She had seen at least fifteen people who, like her, were from muggle origins. And she had stayed there and said nothing, as Umbridge enforced the new law she had surely contributed to.

She tried to focus on her task but it was hard, and her heart almost stopped when she heard the name of the woman who had arrived. Mrs. Cattermole. That was the name of the man Harry was impersonating. That was why he had been so reluctant to go home this morning. He was supposed to come here, to support his wife! She felt her heart pace increase as she tried to find something to do. Maybe hex Umbridge? No, too dangerous, there were Dementors and she was the only one with a wand here, except for Yaxley.

“I’m behind you,” a voice whispered in her ear.

She jumped so violently she nearly overturned the bottle of ink with which she was supposed to be recording the interview, but both Umbridge and Yaxley were concentrating upon Mrs. Cattermole, and this went unnoticed. She tried to stay calm, and put into practice the relaxation exercises she had begun learning in July. _In, out. In, out._

Meanwhile, Umbridge was enjoying torturing the poor woman in front of her, and she felt Harry’s body tense behind her when she let out a girlish laugh. She watched the woman with pure hate, and she saw something gold swinging from her neck. Hermione let out a little squeak, but nobody heard her. She had to do something. To say something.

“That’s… that’s pretty, Dolores,” she said, pointing at the pendant gleaming in the ruffled folds of Umbridge’s blouse.

“What?” snapped Umbridge, glancing down. “Oh yes… an old family heirloom,” she said, patting the locket lying on her large bosom. “The S stands for Selwyn… I am related to the Selwyns... Indeed, there are few pure-blood families to whom I am not related. ... A pity,” she continued in a louder voice, flicking through Mrs. Cattermole’s questionnaire, “that the same cannot be said for you. _‘Parents’ professions: greengrocers.’_ ”

She felt Harry shift, and she moved away from her seat to help him get a better aim, certain that he was going to hex the woman.

“Stupefy!”

There was a flash, and Umbridge fell on her forehead.

* * *

Only a few minutes later, as they ran in the corridors of the Ministry, Hermione thought of Draco and her heart ached at the idea that she was indeed in danger, without having the time to let him know. For now, she just hoped that they would be able to leave the Ministry without any problems. She took the boys hands and turned, thinking of their house. _Destination, Determination, Deliberation._

Phineas had finally agreed to listen to him, and Draco felt victorious already. Maybe that meant that Severus was free.

“We have a few questions for him, but first we want him to know that we are all fine. In fact, we have found one… object, and Potter and his friend are in the Ministry trying to retrieve it.”

The portrait was feigning disinterest, but Draco could see through his act. He was a Slytherin, after all.

“We wanted to ask if he could help us secure an object in the Room of Requirement. It’s an old tiara, perched on a bust. And we wanted to talk to him about the sword of Gryffindor. We have reasons to believe that it was imbued with basilisk’s venom and we want to know if he can smuggle it out of Hogwarts.”

“Smuggle it? My dear boy, with all due respect I have for you, do you really think that a Headmaster would willingly take _Godric’s sword_ out of the castle to give it to you? You’re not even a Gryffindor.”

“It’s not for me, it’s to destroy the…”

He stopped when he heard the sound of an apparition behind him and took his wand out, coming face to face with a highly nervous Kreacher.

“Master Malfoy, we need to be quick. Kreacher felt the wards breach, there are bad men coming this way.”

“What? Kreacher, what do you mean ‘bad men’? Are they Death-Eaters?”

Already, he could hear the sound of rapid footsteps on the lower floors, and he glanced at the door, casting a quick charm to protect him a bit longer.

“Kreacher, what about the others?”

 _Hermione_ , he thought. This was the second time that something bad was happening to her, and he was not near her.

“Kreacher knows not, Master Malfoy. He felt them come back, but then the wards were down and they disappeared. But Kreacher can find his Master, Master Malfoy. Please take Kreacher’s hand before it’s too late.”

Without any time to think, Draco grabbed the portrait of Phineas and took the elf’s small hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, Kreattur... I'm so happy I gave him an important part in this fic!! Do you think he'll help again? ;)
> 
> See you next week :)
> 
> Krummbein


	9. On The Move

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, long time no see, right?
> 
> I hope you will like this chapter, I enjoyed trying to interpret elves' magic (even if it was just a bit). THINGS are happening ;;)
> 
> _________________________________________________________________________
> 
> On another note, I hope you are safe at home and if not, I hope you are protected well-enough. With four members of my family working in the medical area, I have to say it's difficult not to be too tensed with everything going on but I can't imagine what it's like to go every day outside, whatever the reasons are.

“You had no right to do that, boy. I belong in the house of my ancestors.”

“Shut up already.”

Kreacher had taken them to a small forest, and Draco thought he recognized the area as the one where they had put the tent a few weeks ago. He heard a cry and turned around, finding Hermione and Potter bend over Weasley’s pale body. Without thinking, he went to them.

“What happened?” he asked, worried.

“Splinched. We need to stop the bleeding and make him scar as soon as we can,” answered Hermione in a small voice.

“Kreacher,” he called. “Can you help him?”

The elf got closer and looked at the boy in front of him.

“Does Master have any essence of Dittany?”

Wordlessly, he cast a charm in the direction of Hermione’s bag and a small bottle flew towards them. The elf took it and instantly began healing the red-headed.

“We should put the wards up,” he said softly to Hermione.

She nodded, still grasping Weasley’s hand.

“It was all my fault. Yaxley caught hold of me and I had to apparate again. Because of me we’ve lost Grimmauld Place, and… How did you even find us?” she asked Draco.

“Kreacher got me here. Said he had sensed you come back and felt the wards go down, and that I was in danger. If not for him, I think I would have reacted too late. I was talking to Phineas here and…”

“… And he took my portrait away from my home, without my consent,” continued the portrait, crossing his arms.

“Think of it as a chance to travel,” answered Draco. The old director continued glaring at them before Draco had enough of him.

“I think you’d be better in Hermione’s bag,” he said smoothly. “Might give you enough time to ask Severus what I told you before we came here.”

Phineas started to protest, but Draco had already summoned the small bag and was now trying to push the frame into it.

“Great. Should I take care of wards, then? Potter, you know how to set up a tent, right?”

The Boy-Who-Lived nodded, and they left Hermione and Kreacher to take care of Weasley. While he was reciting the charms, Draco moved towards Potter.

“So, what happened? Did you get the Horcrux?”

“Yes,” said Potter, lifting his shirt to show Draco the golden locket. “Had to put Umbridge and Yaxley down. He found us while we were trying to apparate away from the Ministry and…” he stopped, glancing at his friends. “Well, I think we were lucky, this time.”

“Really Potter, how come you always end up in situations like this?”

“I’d like to know. Maybe because I’m too curious for my own sake. Or I don’t like the way things are. I hexed Umbridge after I heard her talk about that woman’s parents. Maybe I could have been more careful. But we knew she had the locket and we could not wait the entire day to have it.”

“Right. Still,” continued Draco. “Less stupid Gryffindor absence of planning, more Slytherin way of thinking.”

“I’ll try to make my Slytherin side shine, then. Did you know the hat almost put me there?”

He did not, and had to admit it was difficult to imagine him with the snakes.

“I have ambition, apparently.”

“But you lack the rest of our traits. You would have had a hard time in the Dungeons, Potter.”

“Yeah, probably.”

The continued their task in silence, and before long Kreacher was back next to them.

“Kreacher can cast his own wards, too. Do the Masters want Kreacher to do that?”

The elf had continued addressing them both as “Masters”, but Draco had found that he had a new respect towards Potter. If they were in danger, he would be the first one the elf would protect.

“Yes please, Kreacher. After that, maybe you can look into Hermione’s thing. I suppose we could all use something to eat after all of that.”

The elf bowed deeply and disappeared into the tent, probably looking for the kitchen.

“Potter,” he began. “I think it’s time for you and Weasley to take your own bags. We’ve put a few things in them and if you find yourself alone, you should be able to survive on your own for a few weeks.”

“Great, thanks Malfoy,” he answered, taking the small satchel Draco was handing him. “You really thought of everything, did you not?”

“It was more Hermione, but I like to think I helped too.”

Potter grinned and gestured for him to follow him inside the tent. Hermione and Weasley were already there, and they saw that Kreacher had begun preparing a new meal. He would not dare summoning anything from the house, but Draco was confident they would have enough food to survive at least six months. That was, if Weasley knew how to refrain himself from eating everything he saw.

“How is he?” asked Potter to Hermione, looking at their friend.

“Better. Kreacher was really quick, and I gave him a blood-replenishing potion. We should let him sleep for a bit, and maybe try to see what we have with us. I don’t think we left anything important behind us, I always tried to take my notes with me.”

“I’ve left some of my clothes,” answered Potter, “but nothing else really significant. I think it’s the same for all of us.”

Draco nodded.

“Alright. I’m going to have some tea. Do you want some?”

Both of them agreed and followed her to the kitchen.

* * *

“So basically, Potter shares the Dark Lord’s thoughts?”

He and Hermione sat together on the large sofa of the library – Hermione still could not believe that there was a library in his family tent – and she had just explained that Potter had had some kind of visions since fourth year.

“Yes.”

“That’s not good at all. What if the Dark Lord tries to see what we do?”

“I don’t think he will, at least not anymore. This link was the reason for Sirius’s death but since the Ministry attack, You-Know-Who has shut the connection down. It’s only when he has intense feelings, like earlier with Gregorovitch, that Harry sometimes sees something.”

“I see. Still, I don’t like that. Has he ever tried Occlumency?”

“Well…” Hermione began. “Do you remember the time you went into Snape’s classroom and saw them together?”

“Oh, he was not tutoring him in potions then. I found that funny, I remember. But Severus is the one who taught me. How come Potter can’t shut his mind?”

“Snape does not like Harry. And something happened, Harry never told me what but the lessons stopped suddenly.”

“Hmm. If you talk to him, I can train him. I can train you and Weasley too, if you want. But I will have to concentrate on Potter first. He’s the one in danger.”

“Thank you, Draco, that’s very nice of you,” she said, before kissing him on the cheek.

The movement should not have startled him, but it did. He was used to her habits, or so he thought. She seemed to consider Potter like her brother and often hugged him tightly or kissed him fondly on the cheek. She did that with Weasley too, but to a smaller, more awkward scale. She also had gradually shown him some kind of affection in the past few weeks they had lived together. But this time, something felt different, and he could not figure out what it was. He stared at her blankly while she got up and left the library.

“I’m going to bed. See you tomorrow?”

“Yes,” he answered quietly, still trying to understand what could have moved him so deeply. “See you tomorrow.”

* * *

Harry had been moody for an entire day before she found out what was wrong. Even Ron had told him that he should not bark at them like that, and Draco had agreed, which was rare enough to be noticed. She felt the weight of the locket on her chest as she tried to sort all the notes Draco had worked on before they had left Grimmauld Place. They should definitely check the orphanage where Riddle had lived as a child (she thought Riddle was easier to say that You-Know-Who, or all of the other nicknames people had come up with. After all, it was his name) but she also thought that going to the castle might be a good idea. They had had no chance with Phineas yet, and she remembered bitterly that he had not answered their call. If Snape could look into the Room of Requirement and give them the sword, it would help them a lot.

She glanced at the wall where they had put the portrait, just above the Sneakoscope she had given Harry for his birthday. The frame was definitely empty, but she was sure Phineas was watching and listening carefully.

“Wanna come with me, ‘Mione? I’d like to bury Mad-Eye Moody’s eye…” Harry had appeared behind her, looking a bit sad.

The eye. She had almost forgotten the horrible tale that Harry had recounted yesterday, after all of them had had a good rest. She felt sick just thinking of the way Umbridge had used the eye.

“Alright, let me get the boys.”

“Ron says he wants to come but I told him to stay where he is. We don’t want to repeat this morning’s accident, don’t you think?”

Ron had tried to take a shower by himself, and he had needed the help of both Harry and Kreacher to get out of the bath.

“And Malfoy’s coming. I’m not sure why, he should hate the man,” he said, probably referring to the ferret incident.

“He never really met Moody, but I think he knows enough to want to pay his respects.”

“Yeah, right.”

“About the incident, if you could try not to mention it when you’re in front of him? We talked about it a bit and… let’s say it was not as funny as it seemed.” He was looking at her quizzically. “Ferret bones are fragile, Harry.”

“Oh, right. Right,” said her friend, this time wincing a bit. He was surely remembering the time when he had lost all of the bones in his arms. Skele-grow definitely left a bad memory.

“Kreacher,” Harry called, and the elf appeared before them. “We are going to bury what’s left of Moody. Would you mind making sure that Ron is alright while we’re outside? I think he said he was going to have a quick nap.”

“Master’s friend is sleeping, Kreacher can tell.”

“How can you, when you’re here?” asked Harry, impressed.

“Kreacher added his own wards. He knows who is where, and how they are. Kreacher has more affinities with his Master, of course, but Kreacher can tell if someone’s ill, for example.”

“How is it possible I never read anything about that?” wondered Hermione aloud.

“Miss surely never asked an elf properly,” answered Kreacher a bit harshly. “Miss should not always believe what’s written in books. Wizards know nothing of elves, they only write what they think they know.”

“But…”

“Told you Granger,” added Malfoy. “You don’t know elves at all. You only encountered exceptions.”

“But…”

Hermione did not know what to say. Books were supposed to contain knowledge, right?

“I think you’ll have time to have an existential crisis later, Hermione. We should go before it rains.”

* * *

A few days later, Harry could tell they had found their rhythm.

Every morning, they would get up at the same time and everyone would try to help Kreacher around the tent, even if he said he did not need any help. They all knew that, but they had to keep themselves busy so they mostly ignored him. Kreacher would then serve breakfast and after they were done, he would send them out of his kitchen.

The first part of the day was dedicated to reading (for Hermione and Malfoy), planning (Hermione, Ron and himself), Occlumency lessons (Malfoy and, sadly, himself) visits in different libraries that could tell them more about the orphanage where Voldemort (Harry did not like the name ‘Riddle’, it sounded too human for him) had grown up (Ron and himself), and foraging rare plants when the area was favorable, potion brewing, or spell-creation (Malfoy, and sometimes Hermione).

Harry really liked the fact that they had Malfoy’s tent. He remembered too well the smell of the one in which he had stayed during the Quidditch Cup. Another benefit was that he had his own room and only shared the bathroom with Ron, which reminded him a lot of Hogwarts, only without his best friend’s snoring (there was a spell soundproofing each bedroom, a real luxury!).

Around lunch, they would all gather around the table and eat whatever dish Kreacher had prepared (Harry suspected him of discreetly leaving the camp in order to find fresh products, but he could not complain because the elf’s cooking had drastically improved since their meeting during summer) and everyone would summarize what they had done in the morning. Before leaving for a quick nap (Ron’s second favorite part of the day, after mealtime), Malfoy would brief them about their afternoon.

Hermione had told them how she had trained with Malfoy, and Harry had quickly agreed to join them. Ron had been more reluctant. At first, because he was not well enough. Then, because he still had a hard time accepting Malfoy with them, and the blond giving him orders got on his nerves quite a bit. In the end, Malfoy trained more often with Hermione while giving them advice and teaching them new hexes they had to learn quickly enough so that they could demonstrate at the end of the day. The session would end with Malfoy trying to defeat them all, something he still easily achieved.

Seeing Malfoy that powerful had made Harry wondering about his own abilities. He had always been under the impression that he was good at dueling but he had never been able to beat Malfoy, even with Ron’s and Hermione’s help. However, the blond had told him that he was good enough to duel most of the Death-Eaters, which had reassured him a bit. Still, knowing that Hermione was now almost as good as him was something difficult to accept.

Where she had the knowledge, he had the reflexes. Harry dueled mainly on instinct, and was quicker than his friends. Hermione knew a lot of spells, and she sometimes tried to get creative, like the day when she had transformed Malfoy’s cloak into an angry squirrel. That had almost worked, but Malfoy had been quick to react and had immobilized Hermione who was already beginning her winning dance before transforming his cloak back.

After that, they were free to do whatever they wanted. Ron usually asked him to play chess for a bit while drinking a warm cup of tea (Hermione had not packed Butterbeer), and Hermione and Draco usually locked themselves into the library to read more about the subject they were currently studying (a library in a tent! And he thought only Hermione would have bought something like that!).

It would be lying to say that he had not noticed the recent changes between Hermione and Draco. Admittedly, there had been something between them the first time he had seen them together. He had instantly recognized the trust she placed in him: it was the same kind of trust they shared, but after a few years of friendship. She had only known him for a month, but it was clear that whatever had happened during his stay at her home had brought them closer.

But now, he was beginning to wonder.

He had seen Malfoy looking at her a few times, and he had recognized that glaze. He had seen the same in plenty of his comrades. But had the blond realized? Probably not. No more than Hermione had realized that she was slowly moving away from Ron.

“Focus Potter, I could have killed you three times already.”

“We’ve been dueling for half an hour, Malfoy,” interrupted Ron. “Can’t you let us have a break?”

“You won’t have a break during a real battle, Weasley,” retorted Malfoy venomously. “You’re lucky I’m nice enough to stop myself from hexing you every time you need to catch your breath.”

Ron said nothing but glared at the Slytherin. Harry suddenly remembered that he was wearing the necklace which made him insufferable, especially when they trained.

“Maybe he’s right, Malfoy,” he said quickly. “We’ve trained later than usual; I think we all deserve to stop for the day.”

The blond said nothing but lowered his wand.

“Are the Masters and the friends done with their training? Kreacher made a cake for Miss. Hermione's birthday, and Kreacher thinks it’s time to eat it.”

“My birthday? But how did you…?”

She looked at Ron, then at him, and saw his smile.

“Oh, thank you Harry, that’s so nice of you! I had totally forgotten the date,” she said, hugging him tightly.

“I didn’t know it was your birthday,” Malfoy said, looking a bit guilty.

“I don’t mind really; I had forgotten myself. I’m just happy we are all together to celebrate it,” she added, hugging Ron who had just wished her a happy birthday.

“But I don’t have any present…” he continued.

“She doesn’t need you to spend your money for her, Malfoy,” said Ron roughly.

“You really think I still have money to spend, Weasley? What I mean is that I could have transfigured something.”

“Ha, Malfoy with no money, that’s something I…”

“LET’S JUST EAT,” said Harry loudly to catch their attention.

* * *

Weeks had passed, and they had been able to talk to Severus a few days after Hermione’s birthday. Phineas was still looking at him warily, but the fact that he was not in a bag anymore seemed to have improved his mood.

“Headmaster Snape says he is happy to hear that you are all doing well.” He had stopped, daring Weasley to say anything more than ‘ah, worried for us now, is he?’. “He has been very busy and has had little time for himself. The Dark Lord called for him almost every day, and all the teachers are nervously trying to make him fire the new ones that were hired.”

“New teachers?” had asked Hermine. “I suppose that he won’t teach DADA anymore, but that’s the only open post, right?”

“They needed a new teacher for Muggle studies. Waste of time, if you want my opinion, but…”

“If you could stick to Snape, Mr. Black.”

Phineas had shot an offended look at Potter and resumed his speech.

“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, there is a new teacher for Muggle studies, and you were right, Miss, another teacher came for Defense Against the Dark Arts. They are siblings, twins if I recall correctly.”

“The Carrows?” Draco questioned, horrified.

“Quite right, young Malfoy, that’s their name.”

“Do you know them, then?” asked Potter.

“I’ve encountered them a few times, yes. Let’s just say that Umbrige would seem civilized to you in comparison.”

“Civilized?” Hermione had blanched after hearing him.

“Yes, civilized…” he had not felt brave enough to tell her about that. “But about Snape, what did he say about our questions?”

“Headmaster Snape,” had snapped the portrait, “told me he would try to go into the room. Apparently it is harder than before, even for him, because the twins and other Death-Eaters roam into the castle at night. He does not know how to send it to you, however. The same thing can be said about the sword.”

The trio had looked at each other, and Draco had guessed that this was not what they had been expecting.

“Please tell him we thank him,” he had quickly answered. “I think it is safe to say that we will try to keep him up to date as often as we can.”

The three friends had nodded in his direction, and Potter had spoken.

“Mr. Black, do you think you could take Dumbledore’s portrait with you next time? There are a few questions we would like to ask him and…”

“Tell me, boy, even if I could do that… Do you think he would accept?” the former Headmaster had smirked. And with these words, he had left the frame.

“Well,” Hermione had said, “at least he came back.”

* * *

They had gone to the orphanage, only to find that nothing was left of it. They had not expected anything, to be honest, it was unlikely that the Dark Lord would leave something so valuable in a place he had hated.

Still, tension had increased after that, and Draco could say that the trio was beginning to lose hope. Snape had not given any news, except to tell them that Ginny Weasley and her friend had tried to steal the sword but failed miserably, and they had no idea what they could do next. They had spent days looking at the different places he had lived in, but most of them were unattainable for now. Hope was slowly but surely leaving the group, and the fact that the three friends were sharing the Horcrux on a daily basis did not help for their mood to improve.

Today was Weasley’s turn, and Draco had left the living room as soon as it was humanly possible. From where he was (the library, because Weasley never came in and Hermione loved it) he could hear him arguing with Potter.

“It’s the end of November and we have nothing yet.”

“We never knew how long it would take, Ronald.”

Draco could tell that Hermione was irritated. They already had had that debate, but Weasley could not stop himself from complaining.

“Dumbledore should have left more. He should have told more. His portrait could at least help us.”

Draco had left the library and was now trying to get a look at the scene without being spotted. It was the worst he had witnessed since the beginning.

“Black told us he could not bring him, and that his portrait had no clues.”

“You bet he has no clues. He’s making fun of us, that’s all.”

“Maybe he didn't have enough time to tell his portrait about everything, Weasley,” interrupted Draco. “If you don’t speak to them daily, then the portraits won’t know everything.”

“Nobody asked you, Malfoy. Stay out of this conversation.”

“I can hear you from the library, Weasley,” he said while crossing his arms. “I think that’s enough for me to be part of it.”

“He’s right Ron, we can hear you from outside. Maybe we should stop arguing all the time,” confirmed Hermione.

“’He’s right’,” mimicked Weasley. “Malfoy’s always right, those days.”

“Don’t bring him into this conversation, Ronald. He’s done nothing to you.”

“Nothing really? You’ve replaced me with him.”

“Don’t be stupid Weasley, your friends would not…” but Weasley would not listen.

“Oh shut the fuck up, Malfoy. Everything was perfectly fine before you came in!”

“Do I need to remind you that I accepted him, Ron?” Potter was fuming, and his wand had begun shooting sparks.

“Yeah right. Like you accepted me. And you know what? I think you should not have bothered. I’m done with that bullshit.”

“What now, you’re going to leave us? Don’t be stupid Ron.”

“But I’m always stupid, I am not Harry?” spat Weasley before summoning his things. “Well, I’d rather be stupid than stay with you.”

“Ron, stop!” Hermione had tried to reach for his hand, but he had pulled away harshly and thrown the locket on the ground.

“Ron…” she tried again, this time with tears in the eyes.

Draco followed him outside, leaving a stricken Hermione with Potter.

“You can’t leave like that, Weasley. Potter needs you. Hermione needs you.”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Malfoy,” he said bitterly. “Both of them are on your side, now. And I’ve seen the way you and Hermione look at each other. What?” he asked when he saw that Draco had stopped, shocked. “You really thought I would be stupid enough not to see was under my nose? I don’t know what you’ve done to her, Malfoy, but clearly it worked,” he spat, before turning around.

“But Weasley…”

Before he could say anything however, the red-headed had crossed the wards and apparated away.

“… You’re the one she wants.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, who thought this would happen?  
> What do you think of Draco's reaction? 
> 
> ... What do you think of the library in the tent?  
> (I would love that)
> 
> I don't know when the next uptdate will be, but don't worry there are still many chapters to come :D
> 
> Love,  
> Krummbein


	10. A Strange Christmas Tale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!
> 
> It's been a while, I know, but I'm going to post again and weekly, because this story is totally written :)
> 
> Please note that there might be some mistakes, as the next chapters won't be corrected.
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter!

It was almost Christmas, and Draco had the strange feeling that the celebration was not going to be a happy one. Last year he had been stressed and alone, convinced he would not live long enough to become an adult. But now, even if he was not alone and alive, the situation was worse. Potter had no parents; Hermione’s had forgotten her and his thought he was dead.

He felt Hermione stir against him and replaced the blanket he had thrown above her. After the Weasel had left them, she had (not so secretly) cried herself to sleep for an entire week, before accepting the dreamless potion he had offered. Still, she seemed to think that he too would disappear and stayed with him more often than before. He had seen how Potter had tried (and failed) to comfort her, and even if he knew the situation was not an easy one for her, he felt happy to know that he was the one that could make her relax enough to fall asleep.

Potter too had been affected by his best friend’s betrayal, but he had tried not to show it. The only thing Draco had found to make him feel a bit better had been to send Kreacher to find a bottle of Fire-whisky that they had drunk together, after Hermione had gone to sleep of course.

It had been a strange evening.

* * *

**Two weeks earlier**

_“He may be your best friend Potter, but he clearly fucked up.”_

_“Can’t believe he did that either. We’ve been friends for years, for Merlin’s sake.”_

_Potter apparently was not accustomed to drink, and he had been less and less coherent as the evening had progressed. For their sake, he hoped no Death Eater would come._

_“And fuck, Hermione…” Draco had continued, thinking of the heartbroken face she now always seemed to have. “The girl loves him and he leaves her like that.”_

_That sentence had led to the strangest moment of the night. Potter had stopped drinking and looked at him, directly in the eyes, a quizzical look on his face._

_“Does she really, Malfoy?”_

_He had not known what to answer. Of course, she loved him. Even if it was the stupidest thing in the world. Had Potter not observed her for the last five years, and especially last year?_

_Potter had – warily – stood up and, after finishing his drink, had decided it was time for him to leave._

_“One last thing, Malfoy. You make her cry like that, you’re a dead ferret.”_

_And with that, he had left._

* * *

“Malfoy?”

Potter had appeared on the frame of the library’s door. He looked at Hermione sleeping but said nothing about the fact that she was against him, and redirected his glaze on the blond.

“Do you think you can wake her? I’d like to tell both of you something.”

Draco nodded and gently shook Hermione after Potter had left them.

“Hermione? Hermione love, wake up.”

 _Shit_ , he thought, panicking, _what have I just said?_

Hermione was still sleeping soundly, however, and it took him five minutes to fully wake her, this time without him saying something he did not want to. When she finally was awake, she smiled sweetly at him, and he felt something funny in his stomach. Like, butterflies maybe? What on earth was happening to him right now?

“Potter wants to talk to us,” he said, trying to keep his voice normal. “He’s waiting in the living room.”

Both of them left the library and found the Chosen One on a sofa, a piece of tart that Kreacher had just cooked in the hand.

“Right, sit down. Did you sleep well, ‘Mione?”

“Yeah,” she replied, and Draco saw her blushing slightly.

“I’ve had an idea. About what to do next,” he began.

“Really? What is it Harry?”

“Well, you remember what Dodge said about Bathilda Bagshot?”

“The author of _A History of Magic_? Yes, he said she was friends with Dumbledore and lived in Godric’s Hollow.”

“Precisely. Which made me think. What if he had left her some indications?”

Potter certainly seemed proud of himself, but Draco was not sure about his reasoning.

“Are you sure, Harry? I mean, this really is unlikely, you know that?”

“Yes,” he sighted, “I know. But Hermione, that’s not the only reason. Godric’s Hollow is also the place where it all began. I’ve always wanted to visit and… and I think this is what I need right now.”

He saw Hermione’s face and knew what she had decided.

“Alright, we’re going to see if it’s possible. But we have to plan. And to find some muggles to impersonate. There’s no way we will go as ourselves.”

“Of course,” said Potter happily. “I’m counting on you to help us there!”

“Maybe we should take the cloak too,” said Draco. “I mean, people are looking for you, and they…” he stopped, looking at Hermione. “They expect three people.”

Her face saddened a bit, but she only nodded.

“You’re right. And in case of an attack, this will be a considerable advantage.”

“Do you really think somebody is going to attack us?” asked Potter.

“Harry, Godric’s Hollow is one of the places I would go looking for you if I was _him_. Of course, I expect something to happen. But maybe I’m just paranoid and everything will be fine.”

“Yeah you’ll see, it will only be a small trip.”

Draco and Hermione exchanged a glance, thinking the same thing. Something could happen even during a small trip, and they knew it.

* * *

“Kreacher will cook a nice dinner for tonight, Masters and Miss.”

For days now, the elf had tried to cheer them up and had decided that a nice Christmas dinner would do the trick. Maybe he was right, thought Hermione. They had had nothing to celebrate recently, and she hoped that a nice meal would help her forget their present life.

Not that she was complaining too much, of course. Still, being without her parents hurt a lot, especially today, and she was still deeply moved by Ron’s betrayal. _How could he do that to us? To me?_ she thought, again and again.

She knew he had a low self-esteem, and she knew that he felt Draco’s presence as a personal challenge to the life he had lived until recently with his friends. But she still could not accept that he had left them based on his own fears. Neither Harry or her had wanted that. He was their friend, for God’s sake! Their _best_ friend, on top of that. The man she _loved_!

Could she still love him, though?

Could she love a man who would abandon her and his best friend during such a critical moment of their existence? What would happen if she got pregnant, and he decided he did not want children now? What if she had a better career than him? What if…

She took her head in her hands and inhaled slowly.

Questions had been piling up in her head for weeks now, and she still had no defined answer. The loving side of her wanted him to come back, to forgive him and to finally declare her love for him. But the rational side was telling her that it was not a good idea, and that she would be disappointed again, hurt again, and not for the last time.

She remembered during the summer, when she had wondered about her boy’s reactions. She knew something would go wrong. She should have seen it coming.

Still, it hurt deeply, to lose the man she thought would one day be hers forever.

Yet, she felt better than the first week after he had left. She felt like something inside her had begun to heal, and sometimes she had this feeling of warms surrounding her, making her smile involuntary.

She was not alone, no. Harry had been there for her, and she knew he too had been a victim of Ron’s departure.

And there was Draco, too.

It seemed that he had decided to be her own guardian angel. He never said anything, never judged her, but he was never far from her now. She had begun falling asleep next to him when they were reading together (she did not want to drink too much Dreamless potion, and her nights were not restful at all now) and she would always wake up with a warm blanket on her shoulders and Draco slightly massaging her arm, or her hand.

He was still there, she always thought, he had not abandoned her. And deep done, she knew he would never.

Again, she felt this warmth spread through her body, and this time she understood what caused it.

* * *

Carefully hidden by Potter’s cloak, Draco made sure that he was erasing the trace of his passage. After a nice dinner, they had finally left their rainy hiding place for Godric’s Hollow, where they had discovered the first snow they had seen in almost a year. It had made him happy, the snow. Winter had always been his favorite time of the year, partly because of the white duvet that covered everything and transformed the land.

In front of him, Potter and Hermione were slowly advancing. They made their way to the center of the village, and Draco could not stop himself from wondering which had been the Potters’ house. He shivered, but the cold was not the only reason. He understood Potter’s need to come back there, but it made him uneasy. The Dark Lord had been there, too, and had killed two innocents. Somewhere, he knew, he was still doing it.

The village was nice and reminded him a lot of Hogsmeade with his small cottages decorated with colored like. They passed several shops, a post office, a pub, and a little church from where people emerged. They seemed happy, he thought, as several of them were laughing loudly, sometimes with a drink when they had already reached the pub. He suddenly felt alone and hurried to grab Hermione’s hand before squeezing it. She smiled absently, returning the favor cautiously.

“People are celebrating Christmas,” noted Hermione. “We never went to the church when I was little. My parents were not believers.”

“My family was,” said Potter, shrugging. “But they never took me with them. I think I would not have liked it, however. At least I was free to go to sleep when they left, my cousin would always complain that it was too late to be up, even on Christmas Eve.”

Hermione smiled at him.

“Yeah, he’s right.”

“Have I told you he left a cup of tea in front of my room before they left? I thought it was a trap, as I tripped over it, but it seems that he had wanted to be nice for once. Even told me I had saved his soul before he left.”

“That is true, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I think it might have changed something in him. Maybe one day I’ll try to reach for him. Once this is over. Even after everything that happened, it would be pleasant if we could consider each other as a family.”

Draco was listening, trying to grab some pieces of the boy’s life. From what Hermione had told him, his childhood had not been nice at all. He remembered feeling bad when she had told him that he had basically been abused, living like Dobby once had.

“Harry look!”

Hermione was pointing at a memorial, which was displaying a small family he recognized instantly: a man with untidy hair and glasses, a woman with long hair and a kind, pretty face, and a baby boy sitting in his mother’s arms. Snow lay upon all their heads, like fluffy white caps. The boy had no scar.

He saw Potter approach, and Hermione slowly came near him, hugging him tightly. What could he be feeling, Draco wondered? Grief? Pain?

He observed the family for a long time. The man, the woman, and the baby. What would his life have been, he wondered, if the Dark Lord had not killed his parents? What would Longbottom’s life have been? How would the world be, if Voldemort had never existed? Would he have befriended Potter, on that first day at Hogwarts? Or Hermione?

“C’mon,” said Potter, finally turning away from the memorial. Hermione went with him, her arm around his waist, and Draco followed them to the entrance of a graveyard.

“Look at this, it’s an Abbott, could be some long-lost relation of Hannah’s!” said Potter, looking at the first grave he saw.

“Keep your voice down,” Hermione begged him.

As they moved off through the snow, Potter and Hermione split and Draco immediately draw near her. They had been exploring for less than five minutes when Hermione called.

“Harry, here!”

“Don’t call him that, ‘Mione!” he whispered urgently.

“Oh my God, you’re right. What an idiot…” she answered quietly.

“Is it…?” asked her friend.

“No, but look!”

Both boys stooped down and looked at the grave. The words _Kendra Dumbledore_ were written, as well as a short way below her dates of birth and death, _and_ _Her Daughter Ariana_. There was also a quotation:

_Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also._

They stayed silent for a moment, and Draco wondered if it was Dumbledore who had chosen the words on the tombstone. What did it mean? Even after his death, the man knew how to confuse him.

Glancing at the names again, he wondered if the rumors spread by Rita Skeeter had been true. He had seen the articles in the Prophet, both from Elia’s Dodge and the woman, and he had to admit that what she said made him wonder about the youth of the man. It was hard to imagine him innocent, without that long white beard Draco had always seen him wear.

“Are you sure he never mentioned …?” Hermione began.

“No,” said Potter curtly, then, “let’s keep looking,” and he turned away.

They parted once again, and Draco left Hermione looking for the tomb, trying to watch their surroundings in case somebody was observing them. He saw no one, but the strange feeling that they were not alone did not leave him.

“Here!” cried Hermione again a few moments later from out of the darkness. “Oh no, sorry! I thought it said your name.”

She was rubbing at a crumbling, mossy stone, gazing down at it, a little frown on her face.

“Look,” she said quietly in Draco’s direction. “I think it’s the mark in the book!”

“The mark?” he whispered.

“Yes, look here.”

“Hermione, that’s the Deathly Hallows sign” he stated.

“The sign?”

“Yes. It represents the three magical objects created by Death. The Elder Wand, the Resurrection Stone, the Invisibility Cloak.”

He frowned, taking the fabric of Potter’s cloak between his fingers. _What if…_

“’Mione, I think I’ve…”

“They’re here.”

Potter's voice was sharp and clear but it missed something, as if he had forgotten how to really speak. By his tone however, they understood that he had found his mother and father. They moved toward him and saw him in front of one headstone, made of white marble. The inscriptions seem to shine in the dark, and Draco read the names engraved.

JAMES POTTER & LILY POTTER

Born 27 March 1960 – Born 30 January 1960

Died 31 October 1981 – Died 31 October 1981

_The last enemy that shall be destroyed is Death_

Potter and Hermione were now talking quietly, and he decided to leave them alone for a moment. Suddenly, he saw it. Something behind the bushes had moved, and he felt his breath stop for a few seconds. Was someone hidden, observing them? As a precaution, he decided to create an invisible protection charm around them and quietly shook Hermione’s shoulder.

“We should go. I think we’re not alone.”

“Not alone? What do you mean?”

“I think I saw something move.”

“Are you sure?” asked Potter quietly. “We look like Muggles.”

“Muggles who’ve just been laying flowers on your parents’ grave! Potter, I’m sure there’s someone over there!”

He saw the boy flinch but he stood up and put his hand in his coat where Draco knew he had hidden his wand.

“Let’s go, then. I assume you’ve put some protective wards around us?”

“Right. Stop talking to me now.”

The had reached the first grave they had seen when Potter sharply looked in the bushes.

“Must be nothing,” whispered Potter, a muffliato preventing anyone except them to hear what he had just said. “An enemy would have attacked us already.”

Draco was not so sure. Maybe the enemy wanted to be certain it was them.

“We should try to find Bathilda’s house,” said Hermione. “Which way do you think we should go?”

But Potter had stopped moving, and was staring at the end of a row of houses. Malfoy looked in the same direction and saw it.

“Do you think this is…”

“Yes,” told Potter Hermione, “this is it.”

They had found his home.

* * *

After making sure that they were alone, Hermione and Potter had explored the house for a bit. They had found a sign that explained why the house had remained untouched, and Potter had seemed pretty happy to see that people had written all around it.

Draco suddenly heard something and sharply turned in this direction. Potter must have heard it too, because he turned around suddenly, startling Hermione behind him.

A figure was slowly making its way in their direction, and they stopped talking. After a few minutes, Draco had the conviction that it was a woman, an old one judging by the way she was walking. She stopped, only a few meters from the house, gazing directly at them.

“Do you think it might be Bathilda?” asked Potter.

Draco moved near him and whispered directly in his ear.

“She sees the house, and she sees us. She is magical. But Potter, I’m not sure about this.”

The boy nodded, but still went to meet the old woman. _WHAT THE FUCK_ , though Draco, _stupid Gryffindor is going to have himself killed._ He quietly made his way toward the two figures, making sure that Hermione followed.

“Bathilda?” asked Potter.

The woman nodded and made a sign for them to follow. Cursing under his breath, Draco renewed the protective wards around them and kept up with the small trio, making sure that he was still invisible. The old woman led them through the village for ten long minutes before finally stopping in front of a decrepit house.

 _Can it really be her?_ he wondered as he stepped into a small entry that smelled worse than Kreacher’s room at Grimmauld’s Place.

He felt weird, around the woman, and something seemed to be off. Worse, his Mark began scratching as soon as he entered the house.

It was only when he heard a hiss he knew too well that he understood.

“Potter,” he murmured after the woman had left the room, trying not to shake the idiot boy that had led them here. “Potter _it’s the fucking snake_.”

“What do you mean the snake?” he asked. “Did you not just hear her talking?”

“It was a hiss, Harry,” whispered Hermione, her voice on edge. “Let’s just go now I think I…”

But before they could act Potter clutched his scar, and Draco saw _it_ happening. The woman had come back faster than she should have been able to, and panic seized him as he saw the old body collapsing and the great snake pouring from the place where her neck had been.

“Oh my God,” screamed Hermione, trying to steady her wand between her shaky hands. “Oh my God it’s going to attack us.”

Potter seemed to be paralyzed and stared blankly at the snake, who was rapidly moving towards him. Grasping Hermione’s hand, Draco shot a repulsive hex in the direction of the snake who had been on the verge of wrapping himself around Potter and quickly summoned the Boy-Who-Lived to him before making them all disappear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, that's it! What did you think of that chapter?
> 
> On another note, I've begun a new story, including time-travel and Regulus Black (my knew favourite character), please go check it out if you're interested! It will take some time, but eventually there will be a regmione \o/
> 
> Love,  
> Krummbein


	11. Meeting Old Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> I've decided to try to post twice a week now, this story is totally written, so why should I wait?  
> Please enjoy this chapter :)
> 
> Krummbein

“SHIT!”

The three of them had crashed loudly on the ground, almost giving a heart attack to a small mouse nearby.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

The scream almost scarred Draco to death. He had never heard such a sound, even when the Dark Lord had been torturing people. And the Crucio curse was rumored to be the worst thing on Earth. What could be happening to Potter?

Draco felt Hermione disentangle from his body and heard her curse. This meant nothing good at all.

“Harry, Harry, wake up!”

The boy was kicking the ground below him, alternating between screams and hisses while clutching his t-shirt as if he was trying to get rid of it.

“I think something is wrong with the Horcruxe!” said Hermione, trying to stop her friend from harming himself. “Can you immobilize him?”

Before he obliged, Potter suddenly stilled and they saw that Kreacher had appeared near them. He must have felt that something was wrong with his Master and come to help them.

“Kreacher will take care of his Master,” he said, looking at the boy in front of him. “Miss and Master should apparate back to the tent, Kreacher will take his Master in his bedroom and tend to his wounds.”

“Wounds?” asked Hermione. “Has the snake time to bite him?”

Kreacher gave no answer but lifted Potter’s shirt, and Draco had to ground his teeth to restrain a scream. On Potter’s torso was the locket, but it seems as if the object had melted the skin around itself and had become one with his bearer.

“Merlin… Do you think you’ll be able to… to take it off?” he asked the elf.

“Kreacher will have to cut around the thing, Master, but Kreacher will give his Master something to sleep and then apply Essence of Dittany on the wound. Kreacher hopes it will be enough.”

“That’s better than leaving this… thing here. Who knows if it won’t go deeper? Hurry up then, we’ll catch up with you later.”

Hermione let go of Potter and the elf disappeared immediately. Draco came near her and pulled her into a hug, and he felt her finally letting go.

“It was not your fault, okay?” he whispered in her ear, trying to wipe the tears coming from her eyes. She was trembling now, probably a result from their earlier encounter with the snake.

“I know, but I was the one who accepted to go there,” she sobbed. “I knew there was a risk, but Harry wanted to see his parent’s tombs and…”

“And I said yes too, if you remember,” he continued, trying to reassure her. “From the moment the woman came I had a strange feeling, but I did not stop Potter from following. We are all responsible, Hermione, but at least we are alive.”

“You’re right,” she said. “Let’s just hope Harry won’t have any aftereffects.”

* * *

“No… No… I dropped it… I dropped it!”

“Harry, it’s okay, wake up, wake up!”

Harry Potter opened his eyes, and the morning light greeted him from the window of his room. He was in the tent. That meant he was Harry. Not Voldemort. Not a snake. Just Harry.

“What happened?” he asked, feeling dazed. “How did we get away? I just remember being paralyzed because of the pain of my scar.”

Hermione gave him a glass of water, and he hastily drank it, listening to her.

“Draco apparated us to the second location before the snake could get to you. I’m thankful he was with us. I too was paralyzed and you… you seemed in trance.”

“My scar was hurting me badly, and the Horcrux was moving as if it wanted to get away. Shit,” he said, bringing his hand to the place where he knew the locket should be. “Where is it?”

“I’ve put it in my bag,” answered Hermione immediately. “I did not want it near us. Draco and I added some protection charms just in case. I’m sorry but it was stuck on your chest, and Kreacher had to cut it out so it left a mark. We’ve put some dittany on it but I think you will keep another scar.” Harry put his hand on his torso and felt a round mark, like a burn.

“Thanks anyway. You did what you had to.”

She smiled, and he saw that she looked tired.

“How long have I been out?”

“I don’t know, hours. Kreacher took care of you until an hour ago. I told him to go get some sleep as I could not have any myself. You had a fever and you seemed to be dreaming.”

“I… I relived the day my parents died. Only I was _him_.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah… At least I know what happened.”

Hermione gave a tentative smile, but he recognized the way she was looking at him. Pity.

“I feel way better now. I’m going to eat something, I think. Why don’t you try to rest for a bit?”

Hermione nodded and left, not before having told him to call for her or Kreacher if he felt that something was wrong.

He was now eating a piece of cake – a huge chocolate one, with cream on it, that the elf had baked yesterday – when he heard a small commotion next to him. Malfoy had drawn a chair and sat next to him.

“Back with us so soon, Potter? I suppose you are glad; it did not seem fun at all.”

“Was not,” said Harry before drinking the rest of his tea. “But I think I learned something valuable. I’m sure the snake is a Horcruxe, now,” he told the blond in a quiet voice, after checking that Hermione was not there. “That’s why I saw Arthur with its eyes, that night. It’s an Horcrux, which means I can go inside him and see what he sees.”

Malfoy frowned, bearing a serious expression.

“Potter,” he began. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately, about this Snitch you got, and that strange connexion with the Dark Lord...”

Malfoy moved his wand around them briefly to give them more privacy, and Harry had the feeling that he was not going to like what he was about to say.

“ _Why_ can you feel what the Dark Lord feels, Potter?”

Harry stayed silent. After Sirius’s death, Dumbledore had acknowledged that he and Voldemort shared a deep connection. However, he had never tried to understand its origin. Could it be what Malfoy was implying? Could he be…?

“You think I’m one, right?” he was astounded to hear that his voice was so calm. It was as if he had always known, deep down. After all, he was already prepared to sacrifice his own life. Being killed by Voldemort while fighting against him, of being killed because he was a Horcruxe. What was the difference?

“Yes. I think you are,” stated the blond. Was it emotion, in his voice?

“I see.”

“’ _I see’._ That’s all you’ve got to say?” Malfoy asked, astonished. “I’m telling you that you surely have to die, and that’s your answer? ‘ _I SEE’?_ ”

“I think I knew it from the beginning,” Harry began. “How many times should I have died already? And not only because of Him.”

“I knew it, you are totally mad.”

“Well, it’s not as if I can do anything against it, don’t you think?”

“We could try getting rid of it.”

“Do you know how?”

“… No.”

“Then it’s settled. I have to sacrifice myself. I have to die.”

“Potter, don’t…”

“What, Malfoy? Going to miss me?”

“You cannot say something like that! You’re supposed to be the one to kill him!”

“Am I really? We both know that to be able to do that, we have to destroy _all_ of the Horcruxes. And we’ve established that I was one. I cannot survive. So you see, if I sacrifice myself, the Prophecy will be fulfilled, and I won’t have to be the one to kill him.”

He could see that the blond was trying to argue, but he gave up after a few minutes.

“This is not the end of this conversation, Potter.”

_I’ll tell him about the Snitch later,_ the blond thought.

* * *

“I have a message for you.”

The sudden sound startled them, and they all turned around to see who had spoken. Phineas Nigellus was calmly looking at them, an air of mischief in the eyes.

“You have a message? From Snape?”

“I have a message from _Headmaster_ Snape, Potter,” answered the portrait. “Do you want to hear it?”

“Of course we want to hear it! We’ve been waiting for _weeks_!”

“You’ll never go far in life if you don’t show some respect to you elders, Potter,” sniffed Black with disdain.

But Potter did not seem to care about being taught a lesson and stopped the portrait from saying anything else.

“What does Snape say?”

Gritting his teeth, the portrait answered.

“He wants you to send your elf to collect him tonight at midnight. He says he has something for you.”

“Did he find the Horcruxe?”

“Is he giving us the sword?”

“He’s coming _here_?”

All of them had spoken at the same time, and they saw the portrait roll his eyes. He really must have been desperate to forget his etiquette like this thought Draco.

“Will you send the elf, yes or no? That’s a simple question, and I only want a simple answer.”

“We will,” answered Potter.

* * *

Approximately ten minutes after the elf’s departure, they heard another crack and saw that Kreacher had come back with their former professor. Only he was not alone, and it took Draco a few seconds to recognize the second man with him.

“ _Weasley_?”

Still holding the elf’s small hand, Ronald Weasley gave a tentative smile towards his friends, only stopping when Hermione suddenly launched herself on him. As Draco jubilantly discovered, it was not because she was happy to see him.

“Ouch — ow — gerroff! What the — ? Hermione — OW!”

“You — complete — arse — Ronald — Weasley!” To Draco’s delight, she punctuated every word with a blow: Ron backed away, shielding his head as Hermione advanced.

“You — crawl — back — here — after — weeks — and — weeks — oh, where’s my wand?”

She had no time to reach for it, however, because Snape had cast a protego, sending them both away from one another.

“Don’t you dare interrupt me, Snape! I’m not done with him!”

She had finally found her wand and looked ready to hex the red-headed.

“You’ll have to continue this joyful reunion after I’m gone, I’m afraid,” the man said slowly. “My time is precious, and I have a lot to tell you.”

“Why don’t you begin with Weasley’s presence here?” asked Draco. “I must say I’m surprised to see you together.”

“Well,” said the boy. “I think you can say it’s thanks to Dumbledore that I’m here.”

Weasley was wincing while trying to get up, Draco noted pleasantly, and he hoped Hermione had broken something.

“Dumbledore?” asked Potter. “Wait, why don’t we all sit in the living room? It will be more comfortable. Kreacher, can you prepare some tea?”

The Boy-Who-Lived seemed to be torn between hugging his best friend and telling him to leave immediately.

“Yeah,” began Weasley, sitting on the nearest couch. “D’you remember the Deluminator?”

Everyone in the room nodded, a bit surprised by the turn of the story, and he continued.

“It doesn’t just turn the lights on and off,” said Ron. “I don’t know how it works or why it happened then and not any other time, because I’ve been wanting to come back ever since I left. But I was listening to the radio really early on Christmas morning and I heard . . . I heard you.”

He was looking at Hermione.

“You heard me on the radio?” she asked incredulously.

“No, I heard you coming out of my pocket. Your voice,” he held up the Deluminator again, “came out of this.”

“And what exactly did I say?” asked Hermione, her tone somewhere between skepticism and curiosity.

“My name. ‘Ron.’”

Draco perfectly remembered that day, not so long ago. After his talk with Potter, he had wanted to know more about the night when Arthur Weasley had been attacked and Hermione had pronounced Weasley’s name when she had explained everything.

“So I took it out,” Ron went on, looking at the Deluminator, “and it didn’t seem different or anything, but I was sure I’d heard you. So I clicked it. And the light went out in my room, but another light appeared right outside the window.”

As Weasley continued relating his story, Draco found himself impressed by Dumbledore’s genius and wondered if the Deluminator had been his only invention. Probably not, he thought, but how could he find them now that the man was dead?

“And tonight, I heard someone pronounce my name again.” He turned a bit, looking at Draco’s godfather. “I recognized Snape, I mean, professor Snape’s voice,” he corrected when he saw the man’s gaze. “So, I took the Deluminator again and the ball of light took me to him.”

“RONALD,” admonished Hermione. “Did you not think once that he might not be alone?”

“I… no. I mean, I don’t think the light would have taken me if I had been in any kind of danger,” he said.

“Humpf.”

“So well, I arrived and I saw him and Kreacher. Apparently, he had been asking if you had had news from me, so that’s why he had said my name. He asked why I was here and accepted to take me with him.”

“Wow. That’s an amazing story!” said Potter.

“Oh yes,” said Hermione coldly. “Amazing is the word. In comparison, our encounter with You-Know-Who’s snake seems trivial,” she snapped at him.

“You saw his snake?” asked Weasley, color draining from his face.

“Oh yes,” she answered, a deadly smile on her face. “Almost attacked us. I’m _so_ grateful _Draco_ was here to take us away. I don’t know what we would have done without him, really,” she added, putting her hand on his knee. “Maybe we would have been stuck there when _YOU-KNOW-WHO ARRIVED._ ”

“Hermione,” finally said Draco firmly. “You’ll have time for that later.”

It was not that he hated to see her like that. If her hatred was directed at the Weasel, he would normally encourage it. But he knew from the look on Severus’s face that they had better things to discuss. She gave him a dangerous look before slowly going back to her initial place on the sofa.

“Good.” said Severus. “Now that Mr. Weasley is done with the story of his _fascinating_ adventures, I have something for you.”

He took a small bag from under his cloak and extracted two objects from it, that Draco instantly recognized.

“What’s happened to the tiara?” asked Potter.

“I decided to try the sword on it before giving it to you. It would have been a waste of time to come here if it was not working. I had no problems finding it thanks to your indications, Draco. I’m sorry it took so long, but the life at the castle is… not the same as before.”

“Because of the Carrows?” asked Draco.

“Yes, partially,” he answered. “Their presence was already annoying, but your friend Longbottom then decided to settle in the Room. It took me three weeks to finally find a solution and to send an elf to retrieve him during his sleep. I had to slightly modify his memory because of this but don’t worry, he’s fine. I mean, fine enough…” he added after a few seconds of reflection. “It seems that he finally discovered his Gryffindor side this year.”

“What do you mean, sir?” asked Hermione.

“I’m not sure I want to tell you, Miss Granger. So much has happened during those weeks, you would not believe me if I told you what the Carrows did to the students.”

“… Are they. Are they worse than Umbridge?” she asked quietly.

Snape only nodded, and they all stayed silent.

“I think I better go now,” finally said the Headmaster. “Just be careful with that sword. I put a copy of it into Bellatrix’s vault to stop your little friends from stealing it. Draco,” he continued. “I’m happy to see that you look much better.”

Draco smiled a little and asked the question he had had from the beginning.

“May I speak with you privately, Severus? I have a question for you.”

Snape seemed surprised by his request and nodded, following him to the kitchen.

“Potter’s an Horcruxe,” he dropped. The fact had been in his mind for days now, but he had not dared speaking of it again with Potter, or telling Hermione about it.

“He is,” finally said Snape in a sigh.

“You _knew?_ ” asked Draco, not believing his ears. “But. For how long?”

“Dumbledore suspected and told me last year.”

“So he knew too. Did he tell you if there was something to do about it? Like a counter-curse, a ritual to perform?”

“There’s nothing,” sighted his godfather again. “I’ve looked for weeks and found nothing. Dumbledore said the only way was for him to sacrifice himself.”

“ _Sacrifice himself?_ ” Draco felt sick. “So basically, you’re telling me the man decided to waste his time protecting Potter from all of the dangers he encountered at Hogwarts just so that he could _die?_ ”

“That’s a way to put it, yes,” answered Snape. “I’ve really tried to find some way out but… Nothing came.”

“Fuck…” said Draco.

“For once, I’m going to agree with you Draco.”

* * *

Weasley’s return had given Potter a new reason for hope, but Hermione was still pissed about him to Draco’s delight. She was now avoiding him like the Plague and had not given him time to apologize. Another benefit for Draco was that she was now constantly with him, and they were now closer than before.

“I don’t understand. I’ve read the tale three time already, but I don’t see the point.”

They were both lying on her bed, her reading, him trying to decide whether or not he should take a nap at 10 in the morning.

“What do you mean?”

“The sign. Why did he use the sign?”

Weasley had given her a copy of Skeeter’s book, and Hermione had found one of Dumbledore’s old letters where he had signed with the Deathly Hallows symbol.

“I don’t know. They were young. Maybe they thought they could find them?”

“Find them? Bullshit. They don’t even exist!”

Draco opened his eyes, looking at her.

“You think they don’t exist?”

“Of course. It’s only a child’s tale.”

Draco rose and sat down comfortably on her bed.

“Are there witches and wizards in muggles tales, Hermione?”

“Yes of course, but…”

“Did you believe witches and wizards existed, before MacGonagall came to your house?”

“No, but…”

“Then, why should the Deathly Hallows be a tale?”

She was staring at him, unable to answer.

“Do you remember when you asked Binns about the Chamber of Secrets?” She nodded. “And do you remember what you told him, when he said he only dealt with real facts?”

“… don’t legends have a basis?”

“Exactly. Some tales work the same way. There have been mentions of a powerful wand, like the one in the tale. And, Hermione, have you seen Potter’s cloak? I mean, really looked at it? It’s been passed down through centuries, and it looks like it’s new. And everyone knows that Potter’s family is related to the Peverells, the family who supposedly made the artifacts.”

“I don’t… Are you sure of what you’re saying?”

“I am. I even think Dumbledore found the Stone and put it into the Snitch.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m having a hard time believing you. Not that I don’t trust you, but…”

“I know. It’s not written somewhere in a book, so you cannot check to see if I’m telling you the truth.”

“Yes,” she said, smiling at him.

“You cannot always refer to books, ‘Mione. I mean, would you try to learn flying just by reading?”

When she did not answer, he looked at her and noticed that she was not looking directly at him.

“No way,” he said, astounded. “You _did_ try!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, many important things happened there... what did you think?
> 
> Love,  
> Krummbein


	12. Alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!  
> I haven't forgotten about my promise "I will publish twice this week".  
> But I was a bit delayed so sorryyyy!
> 
> I'll try to publish earlier next week (and tomorrow, of course).
> 
> Krummbein

“Cissa…”

“…”

“Narcissa, please. You can’t do that forever.”

“…”

She heard her husband sight and leave, closing the door quietly behind him. As always, Narcissa checked that he was really gone before rising from her bed and slowly going to her window. Outside on the grass, she could see the white forms of peacocks roaming around the Manor, only illuminated by the light on the moon. A few months ago, she would have loved this view. Nine months ago exactly, before _the_ _night_.

Her sister and her friends had gone earlier in the evening to accomplish their Master’s task, and Narcissa had been left alone with her husband for two hours before finally learning what she had feared for months.

Her son was dead, killed by a member of the Order.

She remembered clearly what she had felt when Severus had told her the terrible truth. Her heart had stopped beating for a second, before painfully breaking in so many little pieces she was sure she would never be able to heal it completely.

She had not said a word, when he had told her, and Voldemort himself had congratulated her. Her son had sacrificed himself for their cause, he had said. How proud she must feel. Now, his name would be remembered for ever, he would personally see to that. Again, she had said nothing.

In fact, she had completely stopped talking.

Had it almost been a year? she wondered, looking at the breeze gently shaking the leaves on the trees. Could she continue living like that? Ignore what was happening in the whole country? No. She had to do something. She had to get rid of the monster who had killed her son.

She had to plan.

A cry came from far away, and she saw several silhouettes approaching from the outside. _Snatchers_ , she thought. What were they doing here? Usually, they would take their captives in another Manor. Theirs was only for important ones.

The men were carrying three prisoners. Two boys, one girl. Could it be?

As fast as she could, she left her bedroom and went to the living room where she knew her sister and husband would be. She had to be sure.

“What is this?” she heard Lucius ask.

The prisoners were already here when she arrived, and her sister answered.

“They say they’ve got Potter.”

“Truly?” he said. “Interesting, very interesting. Are you sure this is him? He does not look like the Potter I know.”

“But the other ones,” said Greyback. “The red-headed must be a Weasley. And the girl. Isn’t she the one they were looking for, at the Commission?”

“Yes,” slowly said Lucius, “I think I recognize them.”

She could see them now. The dark-haired boy looked as if he had been badly hexed, and Narcissa suspected this must have been the case. How could they have been stupid enough to get themselves caught?!

“There’s something there,” she heard Lucius whisper, “it could be the scar stretched tight… Pettigrew, come here, look properly! What do you think?”

The small man had been observing them from behind a door and quickly came when he heard the summoning.

“That’s… That’s the Weasley boy for sure,” he squeaked, looking at the red-headed boy. “And that’s the mudblood. The third has to be Potter,” he added.

“Well then, the Dark Lord must be informed at once!” said Bellatrix. She dragged back her left sleeve: Narcissa saw the Dark Mark burned into the flesh of her arm, and knew that she was about to touch it —

“I was about to call him!” said Lucius, and his hand actually closed upon Bellatrix’s wrist, preventing her from touching the Mark. “I shall summon him, Bella, Potter has been brought to my house, and it is therefore upon my authority —”

“Your authority!” she sneered, attempting to wrench her hand from his grasp. “You lost your authority when you lost your wand, Lucius! How dare you! Take your hands off me!”

“This is nothing to do with you, you did not capture the boy —”

“Begging your pardon, Mr. Malfoy,” interjected Greyback, “but it’s us that caught Potter, and it’s us that’ll be claiming the gold —”

“Gold!” laughed Bellatrix, still attempting to throw off her brother-in-law, her free hand groping in her pocket for her wand.

“Take your gold, filthy scavenger, what do I want with gold? I seek only the honor of his — of —”

She stopped struggling, her dark eyes fixed upon something Narcissa could not see. Jubilant at her capitulation, Lucius threw her hand from him and ripped up his own sleeve —

“STOP!” shrieked Bellatrix. “Do not touch it, we shall all perish if the Dark Lord comes now!”

Lucius froze, his index finger hovering over his own Mark. Bellatrix strode out of Harry’s limited line of vision.

Narcissa did not move when she saw the two boys being brought to the cellar, face frozen into a mask. However, she began thinking quickly. She could not let Bella torture the poor girl until she died. Even if she was a Mudblood, she was just a child, and must be around Draco’s age. She would not let more of them die because of Voldemort.

Without realizing it, she had taken her wand from her pocket and had been ready to fire when she had felt a hand on her wrist. She stopped, meeting her husband’s glaze.

“Don’t you dare, Narcissa, don’t you dare.”

They stared at each other for a few minutes, each of them daring the other to move. Behind them, Narcissa heard that her sister had begun her questioning and involuntarily shivered. The girl was truly screaming now, and she felt tears leave her eyes, both from the pain she felt around her wrist, and from the raw voice she could hear pleading. She looked at her wand, then at her husband, and slowly lifted her other hand.

She felt more alive than she had in months, and her magic was concentrating in her left palm. She would not have to use her wand to stupefy her husband. She could do it without help.

There was a disruption in the wards, and her whole body stiffened. Only family members could apparate directly into the Manor. She felt Lucius’ grasp loosen up and she turned around when the doors suddenly crashed open.

“Draco?”

* * *

Winter was almost gone, and it meant that Draco could begin harvesting again. The night was clear, and the moon’s light was shining through the dark trees, making them look like the ones at the edge of the Forbidden Forest near Hogwarts.

He missed Hogwarts.

Even with the Cloak, he dared not feel safe. He was long past the protective wards, but tonight was the only time he could harvest a peculiar plant before a long time and he needed it for a new potion he was working on. The story of Weasley’s father's attack, and the numerous times he had himself witnessed the snake bite its victims, had made him want to work on a cure against the poison he knew could make a man die from loss of blood.

And so there he was, looking for flowers he thought could help the wound closing faster.

The outing had also been a pretext to leave the tent for a few moments. The atmosphere was better than it had been after Weasley’s return, but an awkward tension had been building between him and Hermione a few weeks after that.

And there had been what he was now calling the _Potter’s accident_ , when the Git-Who-Sadly-Lived-To-Bother-Him-Endlessly had interrupted what Draco was sure could have become a kiss between him and Hermione. Since then, _he_ was the one she avoided, and he felt himself becoming more and more angry every time he saw Potter or worse, Weasley.

After finally realizing what had been happening to him (and at the same time, understanding Potter’s threat), Draco had genuinely thought that something could happen between him and Hermione. They were always together, and it seemed that she had at last realized that Weasley was not the boyfriend she should be longing for. However, she had not let him try to explain what could have happened after the so-called _accident_ , and he hated the fact that she had rejected him before he could even make his first move.

His life sucked.

The crack of an apparition made him jump, and he saw that Kreacher had appeared not far from him. Taking his wand out, he slowly made his way to the elf who was trembling and looking around with terrorized eyes.

“Kreacher.”

The old elf jumped and nearly cried when he heard his voice.

“MASTER DRACO, SIR! Something terrible happened, Master, something terrible!”

The elf was shaking even more than before, and Draco suspected he was trying not to punish himself. But from what? Panic surged through him, and his voice was edged with fear when he asked.

“What happened?”

“Somebody must have pronounced the Dark Lord’s name, sir! Kreacher remembers his Master and his friends arguing about something just before he left, sir!”

Draco’s stomach clenched. That meant only one thing.

Snatchers.

“Kreacher was in the woods trying to find fresh fish when he felt that the wards were down, so Kreacher came back as soon as he could but someone saw him apparate and he was stupefied before he had the chance to help his Master!”

The poor elf was now ripping his own clothes in grief, trying to speak as big tears rolled down his cheeks.

“The bad men took Master Harry and his friends, and Kreacher was left there alone. And then, Master Harry called for him! But Kreacher could not enter the house, Sir, it is protected by elves’ magic, and only the Masters can enter at will.”

“What house, Kreacher? Do you know what house it was?” he asked, a small bubble of hope forming inside his chest. Maybe it was not too late.

“Malfoy Manor, Master Draco, they took them to Malfoy Manor.”

* * *

He had apparated them directly into the entrance of his family home, and he only needed a few seconds to find the room from which the screams were coming. He recognized the voice instantly and felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

“I take care of Hermione,” he said to the elf, his wand ready in his right hand. “You’re in charge of the rest of them.”

The elf nodded and Draco blasted the door open, running through the hole he had just made.

When he entered, he did not see the Snatchers who looked at him as if the Dark Lord himself had come back. He did he see his parents’ face either, nor did he hear his mother call for him before she was stupefied by Kreacher.

The only thing he saw was his aunt, who had just turned around with her wand in her left hand and a bloody knife in the other, and she was perched above Hermione’s still body. Raw anger like he had never felt before shot through him, and he lifted his wand swiftly.

“AVADA KEDAVRA!”

His aunt had had no time to react, apparently too shocked to see him alive, and her dead body fell on top of Hermione’s, who was still not moving. He could feel nothing but blind terror when he arrived near her, and took her small frame in his arms.

“Please please please, don’t be dead Hermione, don’t be dead please…” he repeated over and over while healing the bruises he could see everywhere on her. She had broken ribs and a concussion, but he could feel a small pulse and apart from the blood she seemed to be fine.

_The blood…_

He suddenly remembered that Bellatrix had been holding a knife soaked with blood and looked for cuts on Hermione’s body. When he saw what his aunt had done, he turned away and threw up the content of his stomach.

“Master Draco must hurry, Kreacher knows where Master Harry is!”

“Go then, Kreacher,” he said weakly, “I’ll stay here to make sure Hermione is fine.”

The elf disappeared from view, and he rapidly heard voices coming from the cellar. Still rocking Hermione against him, he turned to see that Kreacher had brought back Potter and Weasley, but also an elf he rapidly recognized.

“Dobby?”

“Dobby is here to help Harry Potter, sir!” squeaked the little elf happily.

“Fuck Malfoy, what happened?” Weasley’s voice was horrified, and he understood why when he looked around him.

“Kreacher found me and told me you had been brought to the Manor. Came here. Killed my aunt who was torturing Hermione. The kind of evening I like,” he deadpanned before looking at both boys. “So tell me,” he asked angrily. “Who was the fucking idiot who said _HIS_ name?”

Neither boys answered.

“Do you realize that, if I had not come, HERMIONE MIGHT HAVE DIE?”

“It was a mistake,” said Potter, his voice weak.

“A MISTAKE? ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO YOUR FUCKING SELF, POTTER?”

“Look, his name slipped through my mouth and…”

“AND LOOK AT HER FOR MERLIN’S SAKE!”

Hermione had begun moving slightly against him, and she clenched to his shirt. He took her hand and pressed it gently before remembering something.

“Fuck. The Dark Lord.” He had almost forgotten about him. “Where’s he?” he asked, panic seizing him.

“I don’t think they called him,” said Potter. “I saw him, he’s in Nurmengard. Just killed Grindelwald, I think.”

“How do you even… Wait no, I don’t want to know. Fucking stupid Gryffindor prick has nothing better to do than to go explore the Dark Lord’s mind.”

He sighted again and rose from his previous position, Hermione secured tightly in his arms.

“What do we do, now?”

“What do we do? About what?” asked Weasley stupidly.

“About THEM,” he said, pointing at the bodies of the Snatchers and his parents.

“We could kill them…” slowly began the boy.

“Kill them? Do you propose to do it yourself, Weasel? And no one touches my mother while I’m here,” he threatened.

“Maybe just change their memories, then? Erasing your presence and replacing it with… Kreacher’s, maybe?” proposed Potter.

The old elf shook his head rapidly.

“Kreachur would be honored, Master!”

“Can you do that, Potter?”

“I…”

“Right, thank you. You know what? Take Mione back to the tent. Kreachur and I will take care of the rest.”

“To the tent? Isn’t it a bit dangerous?” asked Weasley.

“Do you have a better idea?”

“We asked Dobby to take the others to my brother’s cottage – Draco had no idea who ‘the others’ were, but he did not care – maybe we could go there just for a while and Kreacher can go back to the tent and take it with him?”

Everyone else, including the elf, nodded, and Draco knew he could not refuse.

“Alright, let’s do this then.”

* * *

When she saw that her Draco was alive, Narcissa could not fully believe her eyes. It was really him, something inside her told her, but at the same time it was not. Looking at her son while he ran towards his aunt, she realized how much he had changed. He did not look like her little boy anymore. No, she thought when she saw him kill her sister as if he was possessed by Death itself, he was a man, now. And apparently, a man in love.

She had no idea how it had happened, but she did not care. He was alive, and he looked better than he had the last time she had seen him. She felt her heart swell with pride when she saw him take care of the girl, and she decided it must have been the best thing happening to him in a long time.

A few minutes passed, and his friends disappeared to safety, leaving him and Kreachur alone to take care of the mess. She saw him erase the traces on the floor before turning his wand to his enemies and erasing their memories.

Finally, _finally_ , he looked at them. At her.

She could not recognize what was in his eyes. Pain?

“I’m going to remove your memories, now,” he said, his voice empty of emotion. “I cannot risk you remembering me and telling the Dark Lord.”

 _I won’t tell_ , she tried to tell him. _Please_ , she begged silently, _please let me talk to you, let me take you in my arms, please, I don't want to forget you!_

“Doesn’t Master Draco want to know if his parents are happy to see him alive?” asked the little elf behind her son.

“We don’t know how long we’ve got, Dobby,” answered her son tightly, and she felt a single tear leave her.

She saw him point his wand at his father’s face, and her husband glaze rapidly became unfocused before he fell on the ground. Draco then turned to look at her, and she could see doubt in his eyes.

“Would you denounce me, mother?” he asked quietly.

She tried to say no but she could not move, and she felt a second tear roll on her cheek.

He must have seen it too, because he lifted the spell, and she fall in his arms, sobbing quietly.

* * *

He could not do that to her, he thought when he saw the single tear. She was not like them.

“Mother,” he murmured to her after he had let her go. “Mother, I’ll need to leave soon.”

She shivered and stopped crying, but did not let him go and clutched at him desperately.

“I know,” he heard her respond, and her voice was unsteady as she spoke. “I’m so happy that you are alive, Draco. _So happy_. Even if I have to forget it.”

He clutched harder, marveling at how small and frail she was in contrast to his memories from last year. What had happened to her?

“Mother. We’re going to get rid of the Dark Lord soon; do you hear me? So don’t give up now.”

She nodded in response, and he knew that he had to hurry.

“I’m going to modify your memory, now. Please remember that I love you dearly.”

She smiled before releasing him and closed her eyes, trying to take the memory of him with her.

* * *

When she awoke, hours later, she only had a vague recollection of what had happened during the evening. But somewhere, deep inside her, she remembered someone talking to her, and that person had her son’s voice.

_Mother. We’re going to get rid of the Dark Lord soon; do you hear me? So don’t give up now._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A VERY important chapter, don't you think??  
> Any idea for what might come next.
> 
> See you tomorrow <3
> 
> Krummbein


	13. Stay With Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I don't have a lot to say about that chapter. I think you'll understand why...
> 
> Krummbein

As soon as he appeared, he ignored the questions coming from everyone around him and directly went to see Hermione. As he climbed the stairs of the little Cottage, hundreds of questions came to his mind. Was she alright? How long had she been under the curse? Would she recover? Had the cuts been healed? Was she awake? Would she accept to see him after his _aunt_ had done this to her?

Her room was at the end of the corridor, and he saw the French girl about to close the door when he arrived. She looked at him and, as if she had understood what he wanted, told him he could come in.

“She’s been asking for you,” she said, an enigmatic look on her face. “But be careful,” she added. “Eet ‘as been tiring for ‘er.”

Swallowing nervously, he opened the door of the bedroom cautiously and found her lying on a small bed, her head resting against a huge pillow. She looked terribly pale and tired, but a warm smile appeared on her face when she saw him at the doorway.

“Draco…”

Her voice was still rough from the torture she had to endure, but she did not seem to care about its state and asked him to come near her. He complied, sitting on the bed before cautiously taking her in his arms.

“I thought you were dead,” he said in a small voice he did not recognize. “I thought you were dead and when I saw her above you I just…”

“Shhhhhh,” she told him, gently running her fingers through his hairs. “I’m fine Draco, I really am.”

“Every time you’re far from me something happens, Hermione,” he continued, his voice slightly trembling. “What will it be next time?”

“There won’t be a next time, Draco, I promise.”

“You’ll stay with me?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “I will.”

He let out a sight he did not know he was holding and got her closer to him, until her forehead was resting against his and he could feel her breath on his cheek. She was smiling at him, he saw, and he brought his hand to her face and run his thumb down her cheek. She closed her eyes and his whole body tensed when he saw her leaned in. Closing his eyes too, he felt his heart beat faster and faster with anticipation until they were close enough to kiss. When their lips finally met, he felt her tremble slightly and tightened his grip around her waist. 

Her mouth on his, he forgot everything. Where they were, what had happened. The only thing he knew was that she was in his arms, and that she had initiated the kiss that they were now sharing. His heart was beating so fast his head was spinning, and he could feel the now familiar warmth spreading throughout his entire body.

It was like an addiction, he decided after they had paused a few seconds to regain their breath. Unable to stop himself, he pulled her into a second kiss, this time more passionate.

“I love you,” he breathed, planting kiss after kiss on her lips.

She only kissed him more, if it was possible, and his heart throbbed with happiness. She was _his_.

* * *

The sun was up in the sky when he woke up, and it took him a few minutes to recognize the bed where he was. Hermione was still sleeping, and he observed her for a few minutes, not really realizing what had happened a few hours earlier. They had kissed and cuddled until the first lights of the morning, and Hermione had asked him to stay with her until she fell asleep. He had been tired, too, and he had rapidly understood that he would not make it to his bed, if he even had one. Strangely, it had not really bothered him.

Someone knocked, and Draco hastily stepped out of the bed before Hermione – who had been awakened by the sudden sound – said the door could be opened. It was the French girl again – Fleur, he remembered, and she smiled knowingly when she saw them, her eyes resting on their linked hands.

“I ‘ave to change the bandages, Hermione. And I ‘ave to examine you. Would you mind letting us for a moment, Draco? Ron and ‘Arry are not up yet, but it would be best if you could go into the kitchen. Bill ‘ad to drag his brother away from the bedroom yesterday, and I don’t want any fight in my house.”

Both he and Hermione avoided direct eye contact with the blond girl and he hastily left the room, but not before giving Hermione a shy smile that made her blush even more.

He could still not believe it, he realized. Maybe he would have if they had had enough time to kiss more, but he found that he did not mind waiting for a bit. Now that he was sure she reciprocated his feelings, at least enough to kiss him, he wanted to take his time to savor whatever would grow between them.

“Fuck, I can’t believe it!”

The voice startled him, and he came face to face with someone he recognized as a Gryffindor in their year.

“Thomas?” he asked, surprised.

“Yeah, that’s my name,” said the dark-skinned boy awkwardly. “So, it’s true then? You’re with us?”

“Yeah,” answered Draco a bit uncomfortably.

“How did it happen? Everyone said you were dead!” his former classmate seemed to be eager for more details.

“I’d like to know that too,” said a voice coming from behind the door on his left. A red-headed man with numerous scars on his face had appeared, and he recognized him instantly.

“Weasley,” he nodded quickly. “Thanks for accepting me here despite…” he tried not to look to long at the thin marks he could see “… despite everything.”

“Don’t mind them,” he shrugged. “At least I’m alive, which is not what usually happens with Greyback. And the lady likes them,” he added with a small smile on his lips. “Can’t complain about that.”

Draco hoped the man would not continue further on this particular topic. That was about as much as he could hear about a Weasley’s private life.

“If you really want to know, then I suggest we find somewhere comfortable,” he told them. “It’s going to take a while.”

* * *

When Hermione arrived, he had only begun talking about the day they had met, and she rapidly joined the conversation, giving far more details about the preparations that he would have. She seemed to enjoy talking about him discovering the Muggle world, and he thought that he recognized pride in her voice.

Luna Lovegood was here too, he discovered soon after. She had apparently been held captive with Thomas, a goblin and the old wandmaker at the Manor. The last two had been tortured a lot, it seemed, because only the Ravenclaw had come to listen to their story.

Potter and Weasley appeared almost at the end of it and he was glad the black-haired boy was there because, judging from the murderous looks the red-headed sent him, there could have been a fight. The sight of Weasley only made Draco bring Hermione closer to him and, from the corner of his eye, he saw that his move had had the consequences he intended. In the end, the two friends left the living room and he was able to finish the story of their adventures uninterrupted.

“That’s impressive,” Thomas said , whistling. “And what is it exactly you’re after?”

“We cannot say,” answered Hermione. They had left some details out, as they knew it would be too dangerous to tell them about the Horcruxes. “But it could help us destroy You-Know-Who.”

“Well, if there’s anything I can do, don’t stop yourselves from asking!”

“Thank you, Dean,” Draco looked sharply at the Gryffindor in front of him – wasn’t she a bit too familiar with him? he wondered – “we’ll definitely contact you if you can help us.”

“I still got my coin with me,” he told them, showing the golden Galleon. “I’ve been able to recontact Seamus since we left the Manor, and he says hi!”

“Oh!” Hermione almost jumped from the sofa. “Is he alright? Snape only mentioned that life at Hogwarts was worse than under Umbridge’s reign, and I think he mentioned him when he told us about the sword.”

“Yeah, apparently a large part of the old D.A’s members are now in the Room of Requirement, they organize actions against the Carrows and help deliver the children in the dungeons.”

“They WHAT?”

“I don’t think you want to know more, Hermione,” he told her with a tight smile. “But if that can reassure you, there has been no death yet.”

“What are you talking about?” Potter and Weasley were back, and their Gryffindor friend repeated everything he had said and even gave some details until Fleur called them for lunch.

* * *

“So, this is weird.”

All of them had finally found the time to reunite a few days after the event at the Manor, and Harry felt like he had just voiced everyone’s secret opinion. Since that fateful day, it seemed that Hermione and Malfoy had – finally – accepted what he had been suspected for a few months now, and the atmosphere in the room was awkward.

He himself had had enough time to accept the idea that his best friend and (almost former) enemy would one day begin a relationship (it had been as obvious as Malfoy being a Death Eater, really). However, they were still both shy toward each other, hesitating to show their affection in front of everyone, and it sometimes led to bizarre situations when only one of them decided to take the first step.

And there was also the fact that Ron was not happy with the situation at all. After he had finally understood that they were really together (Malfoy running to Hermione just after he had arrived had been enough to plant the idea in Ron’s head, and staying almost an entire night in her room had only confirmed it) the red-headed had begun provoking Malfoy several times a day, and because of this Harry had tried to avoid letting them together in the same room as often as he could. Mealtime had become unpleasant, and Bill had finally decided to talk to his brother earlier this evening.

“That’s one way to put it,” spat Ron.

Harry saw Hermione’s face fall when she heard him, and immediately Malfoy took her hand and squeezed it. _What I would give to be with Ginny just a few minutes_ , he thought bitterly.

“Let’s not begin another fight, if you don’t mind,” he said to both boys. “We’ve been here for an entire week, and I think it’s time to make an update about the situation. Hermione, you told me you had thought of a place where another Horcruxe could be. Can you tell us more about that?”

“Yes,” she answered, grateful for the chance to speak of something else than her relationship. “Do you remember when Bellatrix said they could not call You-Know-Who?” Everyone nodded.

“Oh,” said Harry, understanding what she wanted to tell them. “You think there is one in her vault?”

“Yes, I’m pretty sure of it. After all, he gave one to Lucius, why not to her?”

Harry saw Malfoy stiffen when she mentioned his family and briefly wondered what would happen the day he introduced her as her girlfriend.

“I think that’s good news!” he told her. “Even if there’s still the problem of breaking into Gringotts without any suspicion. Who’s got an idea?”

The three of them sat in silence for a moment, trying to think of a solution.

“Wait until Griphook is healed and ask him to help us?” said Ron.

“Disguise ourselves, go to the bank, access to the vault?” proposed Hermione.

“Won’t work,” Draco told both of them. “Goblins won’t take sides in our conflict and will only accept to help you for a price. And the family vaults are located in a place difficult to access for people who are not related to us. Not mentioning the fact that poor aunt Bella passed away a few days ago, which means that I’m her only heir as the last descendant of the Black family.”

“So what,” asked Harry, “that means your parents are now in possession of the contents?”

“Not yet, Potter. As there was nobody, the goblins have to wait one year before closing my account. In the meantime, my mother is the only one who can access the Black part of the fortune.”

“Is there something you want to tell us, Malfoy?” asked Harry, sensing that the blond had some information to share.

“Well. I’m going to propose something and, before stopping me, please wait until I’m done.”

* * *

It was a terrible idea, Harry thought, to trust Malfoy to that point. Yet he knew that there was a chance of success and that was why, after a lot of negotiations with Ron (who had kindly remembered him the part of his speech from last summer, when he had predicted Malfoy would betray them and bring them to his family), he had accepted the plan.

It had been decided that only he and Malfoy would go, the latter for obvious reasons, and that Dobby would bring Narcissa Malfoy to a location only known by themselves. She would appear with her hands tied, and both boys would be disillusioned and under his cloak as a measure of precaution. Only then Malfoy would reveal himself, and they would see if she accepted to be tested by Veritaserum. If not, they would modify her memory before sending her back home.

The blond was nervous, Harry could tell. He had spent the previous days wondering how she would react, and if she would accept to help them. If not, it meant that he had lost even his mother to Voldemort’s ideology. Still, Harry thought it would be alright. If the woman had dared brave His orders to ask Snape for his assistance, she would accept to retrieve the Horcrux for them – if it was there at all.

Both of them stilled when they heard the sound of an apparition, and they saw that Narcissa Malfoy had arrived. She was in her bed clothes – she had been asleep when Dobby had come – and seemed not to understand what was happening.

“Why am I tied?” she asked, her voice condescending. “Is this how the Order gets prisoners? By kidnapping them in the middle of the night, when they are defenseless?”

“We’re not the Order.”

Narcissa Malfoy had stilled, looking in the direction where the voice had come from with a strange look.

“Am I hallucinating?” she asked quietly. “Draco, is that you?”

Harry felt Malfoy leave from under the cloak and go near his mother. She had heard him and was now trying to see him.

“Surely you cannot be a ghost,” she said, her voice trembling. “You can’t, I know that.”

“How can you be so sure?” he asked again, and she nearly jumped.

“That day at the Manor, when Potter and his friends were brought. There was something strange. I clearly remember someone telling me that the Dark Lord would soon be gone. That was you, wasn’t it? Draco, _please_ ,” she said, the tremor in her voice making Harry shudder.

Malfoy lifted the spell, and Narcissa Malfoy fell on her knees when she saw him.

“I knew it,” she said, sobbing as he kneeled to hug her tightly. “You were there that day, you’re not dead. But why am I here, Draco?” she asked after a few minutes. “I thought you would have wanted me to forget that you were alive because of the Dark Lord?”

Harry saw Malfoy’s face harden, and he spoke almost reluctantly.

“Some things have changed, Mother, and we need your help.”

He briefly explained the situation and, after she had been tested, he freed her.

“Potter’s here too,” he added, and the Boy-Who-Lived lifted the charms he wore.

“Good evening, Mrs. Malfoy. Sorry for the inconvenience,” he said.

“No inconvenience, Mr. Potter. I’m glad you were able to safely leave the Manor. I myself was not able to do anything at the moment, but I wish I could have.”

Harry nodded, suddenly remembering the position she had been when he had arrived after having been freed. Had she wanted to help Hermione, that night?

“So, will you help us to get the object, then?” he asked.

“I want to help you, Mr. Potter, but I’m afraid your plan is not the best. I have control over Draco’s vault and the Black fortune on the paper, but as Draco is the Heir and not officially recognized as dead,” she smiled when she said that, “he is the only one who can take something out. The funds are frozen until next June, and only then will I be able to manage them.”

“Shit,” swore Harry. “I mean…”

“No need for excuses, Mr. Potter. I have another idea for you, but… but it means that my Draco will have to come with me.”

“What do you mean, Mother?”

“Mr. Potter, I saw that you had a beautiful invisibility cloak. Is it the famous Potter’s legacy?”

“It is.”

“I’ve heard a bit about it. The best cloak ever made by a wizard. Maybe not by a wizard, according to the legend… Anyways, my vault is not far away from Bellatrix’s vault, so if you come with me, we’ll be able to access it easily.”

“What about the Thief’s Downfall?” inquired Malfoy.

“The cloak is not a disguise, and you are authorized in these parts of the bank.”

“But. Do you really think the goblin will accept to open the vault if he knows you cannot take anything from it? Won’t it be suspicious, too?”

“You will make him help us. If we are good enough he won’t remember anything at all, which is better in my opinion, and as the rightful heir you will be able to access the vault without being armed by the different charms.”

“You mean we imperius him?” asked Harry.

“We don’t have a lot of choices, Mr. Potter. If you want the object, you will have to make certain compromises about ethics.”

“I see,” he said. “I’m not sure Hermione will like Malfoy going there, but…”

He saw the blond scowl at him, but Narcissa only laughed.

“Oh Draco darling, do you think I haven’t understood what happened that night? I didn’t really think that Kreattur had been able to kill my sister. Weasley or Potter would have been more plausible, and I can’t truthfully say I’m sure they would have succeeded that easily.”

“Can we have that talk another day, please?”

It was fun to see Malfoy so queasy, thought Harry. He would make sure to make him remember that conversation as often as he could.

“Don’t fret, darling. I’m sure we will soon have enough time to discuss that wonderful event in detail. Do I need to retrieve some jewelry while I’m in my vault?” Harry was sure he recognized teasing in her voice.

“Mother that’s enough,” grumbled Malfoy.

“If you say so. Now that we have almost agreed, what shall I do next? Will Dobby come to fetch me again, or to tell me what you’ve decided? And how come he can still access the Manor?”

“Dobby was born in the Manor,” said the little elf from behind a tree, making everyone jump. “So the Manor recognized him.”

“I see. And the other elves do not know of your presence?”

“No, Mistress Malfoy. Not if Dobby does not want them to know.”

“Very well then. I feared that someone had been able to access our wards.”

Harry took a galleon from his pocket and gave it to Mrs. Malfoy.

“This is the best we have,” he said. “We did not want you to have one, because it is dangerous, but if you are willing to help us you will keep it until we are done with that mission.”

“Good,” she said, accepting the small golden coin. “This is very ingenious,” she continued after they had explained the use of it. “I suppose Miss Granger is responsible for this?”

“She is, yes,” confirmed Harry. “Fifth year, because of Umbridge.”

Narcissa Malfoy smiled, and turned to say goodbye to her son. After a few minutes, she let him go and turned back to Harry.

“It was a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Potter. I hope we will one day have the time to enjoy tea together.”

“Gladly, Mrs. Malfoy,” he replied.

And, with a last glance at her son, she disappeared.

* * *

“I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

Hermione had been waiting for them when they had arrived, asking what had happened. Weasley had not wanted to stay up and decided he could wait until the next morning.

“Is this because she said the plan was not perfect?” asked Potter.

“Not at all,” she told him, but Draco could tell she was a bit offended – she _had_ helped with the planning. “But I don’t want Draco taking any risks.”

“Hermione,” he said, “I’ve been taking risks for months now. I don’t think that a small visit at Gringotts is going to change anything.”

“We stayed hidden all the time.”

“Most of the time, only. There was Godric Hallows, and less than two weeks ago the Manor. I could have been seen then.”

“It’s just… I told you I wouldn’t leave, but I thought it worked for you too” she said with a small voice.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Potter discreetly leaving the living room.

“I know, ‘Mione, and I’m sorry. But I don’t think we have another choice. My mother is right. And I’m making her take enough risks. Remember that I’m not a Gryffindor. You’re the one always walking directly into the lion’s den,” he added.

“I’m not really,” she said. “It’s more because of Harry…”

“You know it, yet you continue following him,” he teased her. “Wait, I do that too, and look where it got me. I’ve certainly been more in danger now that I was in sixth year.”

“Don’t joke about that, you could have died that night in the bathroom.”

“And it was Potter’s fault, as always. You know what? Once this is over, we never see him again.”

“I couldn’t do that!”

“Yes, you could. We would buy a nice house in Southern France and…”

“A house? You want to buy a house with me?” she gaped.

“Well why not?” he asked, a bit embarrassed by his enthusiasm. “Would you refuse to live with me? After all, that’s more or less what we’ve done so far…”

“I don’t know,” she said, tracing patterns on his arms without looking at him. “I think I’d like to finish my studies first.”

Draco looked at her, surprised. She had not said yes, but it was not a no either.

“I can definitely agree to that,” he said carefully. “In fact, I’d like to pass my N.E.W.T.s too.”

She smiled at him and kissed him lightly on the lips.

“Well,” she told him, smiling more. “Then I suppose you have a cup to retrieve, and we have a Dark Lord to kill.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY!  
> What did you think, really? It took me forever to write that scene. I mean, like two days erasing and writing again (and reading, of course. For inspiration). I thought everything sounded stupid.
> 
> Oh, and Narcissa.
> 
> See you in a few days :D


	14. Breaking Bad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I had no idea for the title and as I'm French, I wasn't sure it would be alright. What do you think? If you've got a better idea, I'm all hears :D
> 
> Krummbein

“Are you sure you need to go?”

They were still in her bed, and Draco wished he could stay there forever. It was still early but his mission at Gringotts would take place soon and he had not been able to sleep more than a few hours, even with Hermione’s presence.

They had shared her room since their arrival, less than two weeks ago. The second night, after turning over in his bed for a few hours, he had finally given up and joined her in her sleep. It was not that he was taking advantage of the situation – alright, maybe a little – but he felt better knowing she was just near him. She had seemed to be happy by his decision and he had understood why rapidly when she had kicked him in his sleep, apparently having a nightmare. He felt guilty knowing that it was because of his aunt, but it seemed that she had less and less of them since the beginning of the week.

“I think we’ve already had this conversation?” he asked.

“I know. But maybe we could first be sure that this is an Horcrux and let your mother go alone?”

“Hermione…”

“Alright, alright. Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I’m a Slytherin, I know how to survive. And my mother will be with me.”

“Still. You won’t be able to apparate away and there is only one exit from the vaults. Even Kreattur won’t be able to help you.”

“I’ll always find a solution to come back, don’t worry.”

She tried to look assured, but her smile did not quite reach her eyes.

“I better go before I give up the mission, and we both know it would be a bad idea. Come eat something with me?”

She agreed and they left the room for the kitchen, where Bill was apparently waiting for them.

“Hermione,” he smiled. “Malfoy,” he added with a nod.

“Hi Bill!”

“Morning Weasley,” Draco greeted.

“I suppose I don’t need to warn you against goblins, Malfoy?”

“Nope, I’ve heard enough about them to know that the little shits are going to give me a hard time if I end up destroying something inside of the bank.”

“Draco!” scolded Hermione. “You cannot speak about them like that! And you say I’m the one prejudiced about house-elves!”

“She’s got a point, Malfoy. You could benefit from some light reading about goblins, one day.”

“We’ll see about that,” he said, taking another slice of bread.

* * *

He apparated in muggle London, just behind the Leaky Cauldron. After making sure that no one was there, he opened the door slowly and entered warily, grateful for Potter’s cloak. The pub was deserted, but Draco was almost sure that it had nothing to do with the fact that it was still early, but rather because of the current political situation. He only had to wait for a few minutes before the fireplace roared to life, and he saw his mother come through green flames.

She nodded to the barman who had appeared after her arrival and moved slowly, apparently waiting for her son to manifest himself. He taped her shoulder gently and saw her slightly incline her head in direction of the entrance of Diagon Alley. Understanding what she wanted, he posed his arm on hers so that they could leave together.

“Are you alright, Mother?” he murmured.

They had exchanged irregularly and just about the mission, and he remembered only too well her haunted looks at the Manor. She seemed better though, and she smiled for a few seconds before putting her mask back on, raising her wand to open the wall.

As a child, he had always liked walking through the street of Diagon Alley. It was lively, people greeted his family with respect, and he would almost always have an ice-cream before going back home.

The vision in front of him was gloomy. There were very few people outside, all of them with their wand in hand, and a look of fear in the eyes. No one greeted his mother. Some witch hurried inside a shop when she saw the blond lady, and an old witch begged her to tell her husband that his son had done nothing to the Dark Lord. And Fortescue… Well, better not think about it.

“Narcissa, dear!”

A feminine voice had called for her mother, and he recognized the owner before turning around. Azalea Parkinson, the mother of his ex-girlfriend, had appeared from nowhere.

“Such a long time since we last saw each other, isn’t that right darling? Dear Lucius told me he was worried about you. Something about you refusing to speak, I think?”

The woman was noisy, and he saw her mother smile tightly.

“The _shock_ I had last year, I’m afraid,” she said stiffly. “But I decided it was not going to bring my son back.”

“Yes indeed, quite a tragedy,” said the woman, who did not look sad at all. “Such a shame really. My Pansy was inconsolable. She had begged her father to discuss a betrothal contract at the end of her 5th year. You know I would have gladly welcome poor Draco in our family.”

“I know, Azalea, I too would have loved for our families to be bound together.”

Draco was suddenly very happy that everyone thought he was dead. He would never have accepted to marry Pansy, whatever his father would have said.

“I would love to catch up with you, Narcissa darling. Would you like to accompany me at Rosa Lee Teabag?”

“I’m sorry dear,” his mother answered, “but I have an appointment at Gringotts. Why don’t you come for tea later this week? I might be able to get an invitation for your husband as well; our Lord is always happy to know that our _devoted_ friends are able to visit the Manor.”

“Thank you very much, Narcissa,” said Azalea, her voice suddenly weaker. “I’m afraid that neither my husband or I have the time this week, but I’m sure we will be able to find a moment to meet up soon.”

“I hope so, yes. Until later, then. It seems that we both have something to do,” his mother said brightly, before giving Pansy’s mother a quick peck. Both women parted, and Draco let out a small sigh.

“This woman is horrendous”, muttered the blond witch. “Not even trying to hide the fact that they are afraid of the Dark Lord, when I have to see him and his associates every day in my house,”.

“They’ll be gone soon enough,” Draco told her.

“I can’t wait for this day to arrive, my darling. He’s been in a bad mood since your friends escaped. Lucius and Greyback were the ones to take the blame,” she added quickly, as if she wanted to reassure him, “but the situation has worsened for everyone.”

He said nothing, but he did not have to. They both knew what happened when the Dark Lord was angry.

They were almost in front of the bank, now, and he could already see that two Death Eaters were guarding the entrance.

“Mother,” he warned in a whisper. “One of them got a Probity Probe!”

“I saw that,” she muttered, her lips moving imperceptibly. “I think the cloak won’t be detected, but you should still confound him.”

He agreed that he would be for the best, and muttered the spell just after his mother had been checked. The man seemed to wonder what he was doing before trying to test her again.

“You’ve just done that,” said his colleague. “Try not to look stupid in front of the Lady. I’m sorry, Lady Malfoy,” he added with an apologetic smile. “He’s new and wants to be effective.”

“There's no need for an excuse, sir. I know how thrilling it must be for our young recruits, to be able to help the Dark Lord establish a new era.”

The man smiled again and Draco refrained himself from kicking him. No one smiled at his mother like that.

They entered the bank, and he was relieved to see that nothing had changed here. Same desks, same goblins counting their gold. His mother went to the nearest one and asked for her personal advisor. The goblin, a short creature with pointy ears that looked dangerous to approach, arrived promptly and asked that her mother showed him her wand.

“My wand? And why would you need it?”

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience, Lady Malfoy, but this is the new procedure. We have to verify our customer’s identity.”

“Alright then,” she said, looking annoyed. “Here, take it.”

He had to admire his mother’s capacity to stay calm and composed whatever the situation was. Draco felt extremely nervous and was just hoping to leave the building as soon as he could.

The goblin declared that everything was right, and asked her to follow him to the tunnels where a small cart stopped in front of them. They all clambered into it – Draco more carefully – and soon they were moving swiftly. He tightened his grasp around the cloak.

They had decided to imperio the goblin only a few minutes, as they were more apt to detect and fight the spell than humans. But his mother’s advisor was old, even for one of his races, and they were almost sure that he would not be able to remember what had happened.

Regretting coming so soon after his breakfast, Draco did his best to concentrate on the track, as they went deeper and deeper within Gringotts. The waterfall arrived too soon for his liking, and he had to wait a few minutes before being able to dry himself with a quick move of his wand. Why had they not been able to find another solution to this humiliating thing?

The cart finally slowed down, and the goblin took his Clankers before leaving it. His mother grabbed her skirts and left the cushioned bench, doing her best to keep them above the ground and the dust that covered it.

The dragon was a new one, Draco decided. The last he had seen, less than five years ago, had looked older and was missing some scales. Still, this one was an adult and, looking at his size, Draco decided that four grown-up wizards would easily be able to climb on it without any problem. The poor creature was trembling with fear, and he remembered what Hermione had told him. No magical being should be mistreated, even the ones considered as inferior. Maybe he could ask her if she knew someone working with dragons, who would accept to help him defend their rights. She would like this idea.

They advanced slowly, waiting for the dragon to back off before finally reaching the entrance of the vaults of his family. He recognized the Malfoy one, surely the biggest of all, and not far from here, his aunt’s. His mother had told him where it was and he walked in that direction, waiting for her to be done with the withdrawal of a necklace that had been worn by his great-great aunt before imperiusing the old goblin.

He stilled, before closing the Malfoy’s vault and going just next to Draco and opening the second one. His mother did move nor spoke – something they had decided in advance in case their plan would go wrong, so that no one would accuse her – and Draco hurried inside of the vault, looking for the cup. Summoning spells would not work, but at least he was insensible to the Germino and Flagrante Curses his mother had told them about.

It took him only a few seconds to find the cup, just above a small chest containing precious gems. Trying to reach it, he rapidly gave up and struggled to climb above the small piles of galleons that were everywhere in sight. Silently cursing, he regretted not having his broom with him and took his wand out of his robes in order to reach one of the handles.

He had just secured the cup when he heard a small commotion, and he saw that the goblin had stopped being under the influence of his unforgivable and was trying to close the door. Swearing again, Draco casted a quick spell in his direction and pushed him against a wall.

“INTRUDERS,” the goblin screamed, “INTRUDERS IN THE VAULTS!”

_Stupid_ , Draco thought, before immobilizing it.

“Quick Draco,” said his mother when she saw the creature fall on the floor. “We have to get out of here.”

“We can’t without him, Mother,” he told her. “We need to imperius him again.”

“That won’t work,” she said. “He fought against it in less than five minutes. He won’t let us leave.”

“What if you say that you were imperiused too?”

“I’m not sure that will give you enough time to leave, darling,” she answered, and he saw that she was glancing behind him, her eyes suddenly flashing. “Tell me, have you ever wanted to ride something else than a broom?”

He looked in the direction she was eying and felt his mouth open when he understood.

“You don’t mean…?”

“I do,” she replied, going near the dragon and beginning to severe some of his chains. “And I think it’s the best solution we have.”

“But… What about Father?”

She looked in his direction, trying to find his eyes behind the cloak, and sighed.

“I’m afraid Lucius has already chosen his path, my darling. If he’s smart enough, he’ll deny knowing anything about this.”

* * *

“What is _she_ doing here?”

The sound of Weasley’s voice made him wince, but he decided that their little arguments would be put to a stop while his mother was here. He did not want her to remind him of those awful etiquette lessons he had had when he was a child.

“My _mother_ , Weasley, was the one who helped us leave Gringotts without getting caught.”

“Draco!” Hermione had apparently been in the kitchen when they had arrived, and was still holding a kitchen knife. “What happened?” she asked, her eyes moving from him to his mother quickly. “I thought your mother was supposed to go back to the Manor once you were done?”

“The goblin fought the imperius spell too quickly for us, we were still under the bank when it happened and could only leave with him,” he said.

“But… How did you escape, then?” Potter asked.

“On the back of the dragon, of course,” his mother declared casually, as if she was talking about her last tea party.

“A… a dragon? A fucking _dragon_?”

Weasley’s mouth opened and closed a few more times before he dropped on a couch, muttering for himself.

“A dragon. Wait ‘till Charlie hears about that…”

“What do you mean, you rode a dragon? Was there one inside of Gringotts?” asked Hermione.

“Gringotts have had dragons for centuries now, I think from the beginning,” Draco quickly said. “And yes, I know they should not be there,” he quickly added when he saw her put her hands on her hips. “That’s not the subject right now.”

“But you must have been meters under the bank! How did you do it?” Potter eyes were shining, and Draco was sure he too would have loved riding on the back of a dragon.

“We helped it by enlarging the passageway, and we blasted the marble hallway before he left through the doors.”

Fleur Delacour and her husband had joined them, and everyone in the room was looking at them as if they had gone completely mad.

“Well…” the oldest Weasley said. “I think Mrs. Malfoy has gained my respect. I would never have done such a thing, and I was a Gryffindor. Are you sure you were placed in the right house?” he asked, almost serious.

“Quite sure, Mr. Weasley,” answered his mother with a small smile. “But that does not mean I cannot embrace some traits of your house when my son and myself are in danger. Survival _is_ important to us after all.”

“So…” Potter began, looking at the cup his mother was now handing. “Who wants to take care of it?”

“I think she should do it,” said Weasley. They all looked at him, surprised.

“I mean,” he added a bit nervously, “I think she’s earned that right; don’t you think?”

For the first time in his life, Draco thought that Ronald Weasley might be okay.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy screamed again, dropping on the floor of the drawing room.

“I am _very_ disappointed with you, Lucius.”

One hour ago, the two Death Eaters that had been on duty at Gringotts had suddenly appeared at the Manor, telling the Dark Lord that his wife had left on the back of a dragon. His master had immediately disappeared, only to return angrier than he had been. And that was really bad for him.

“My Lord, I _swear_ I had no idea. She had not talked to me for months. She had only begun talking a bit to her elf since…”

“Since…?”

“Since… _that_ event, my Lord.”

He knew this could only worsen his position, but at the same time he could not lie to him.

“Do you mean, by any chance, the day POTTER ESCAPED?”

“Yes, yes my Lord, that’s what I mean.”

Another round of crucio occurred, this time the longest he had experienced since his return from Azkaban. That was a memory he wanted to forget, and he hoped his master would be merciful. After all, he still did not know the reason why he was tortured.

“Do you know what you lovely wife did, Lucius?” Voldemort asked, a horrible smile deforming the trait of his face. “She went to her sister’s vault, and took something of mine,” he spat venomously. “Something _very_ important. Why?”

“I’m sorry but I don’t know, my Lord,” he answered, his voice shaking. Every part of his body was trembling, simultaneously from the torture and from the sheer terror he was experiencing. He tried to stand up on his hands but realized his strength had left him.

“Would she have any reason to do that, Lucius? How could she know it was mine?”

“I…”

“Is she helping Potter? ANSWER!”

But he did not know what to say, and Voldemort ran out of patience and lifted him above the floor, like an old puppet, until their eyes met.

“Legilimens.”

He was at the Manor, trying to get Narcissa to talk to him, and he knew why she refused to… He had surprised her in their son’s room again, this time with one of his old robes in the hands, crying… His elf had just returned from her room, showing him the small bottle of poison he had found hidden in the cupboard… He had immobilized her and knew from the way she looked that he was hurting her, but he could not let her stop Bellatrix, because they _had_ to bring Potter to their Master… An old elf barged into the room and she looked so surprised, but he was too, because how could he have entered the Manor all by himself…? 

Suddenly the excruciating pain was gone, and he was dropped on the floor. He heard his wrist crack and the sudden pain made his eyes water.

His master seemed troubled and was talking to himself.

“So, she wanted to help the girl. I did not remember that. We can only assume that she is the one who helped them escape, although I don’t understand how she did it. One thing is sure. If she went to the vault, that can only mean one thing… Lucius,” he said, turning his snakelike face in his direction. “I’m leaving for now. Take care of the mess at Gringotts and call for our allies. All of them. We march on Hogwarts tomorrow, first thing in the morning. Oh and, one last thing,” he said, a dark smile playing on his lips this time. “This is the last time you disappoint me. Do you understand?”

Lucius gulped and nodded. The meaning of his sentence was only too clear.

His master left the room, leaving him half-broken. Was that what he was now entitled to? Crawling on the floor of his own home? Maybe Cissa had done the right thing, he mused. She had chosen to free herself from a dangerous master and decided to help the only person that could get rid of him. He was a Malfoy, for Circe’s sake, and Malfoys did not bend the knee to anyone, especially not people who humiliated them in their own home!

He still had time, he thought. He could yet change things to his benefit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Narcissa Malfoy is a badass!  
> What do you think Lucius is going to do? ;)
> 
> See you next week,  
> Krummbein


	15. Welcome Back Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fiction is slowly coming to an end... you'll see what I mean in this chapter :)
> 
> Krummbein

“Malfoy, can I talk to you for a moment?”

Harry stood at the doorway, from where he had observed the interactions between the two Malfoys and Hermione for the past five minutes. It was strange, to see both women talking quietly to each other, but he was happy to see that his friend seemed more relaxed than she had been this morning. In the little cottage, Lady Malfoy was simultaneously standing out and looking perfectly at home, something, he thought, only someone raised as a Pureblood could achieve.

The blond glanced at Hermione, then at his mother, and both told him that he could leave them for a moment. Narcissa seemed thrilled at the opportunity to be alone with Hermione, while his friend looked shy, almost intimidated by her companion.

Malfoy rose from his seat and followed him, and Harry led them to his room, where he locked the door and muttered some privacy charms. Malfoy sat himself on the bed and looked at him, expectantly.

“I had a new vision, a few hours ago. V… You-Know-Who knows that we found at least one of the Horcruxes, and he is beginning to panic. I think this is the moment we’ve been waiting for.”

“You mean, go out and provoke him, in order to kill him?” Malfoy asked.

“Yes. It is time to stop all this mess, before more people die because of him.”

The blond nodded, and Harry continued.

“You know the truth about me, and you know I have to die. _Please let me finish my sentence before trying to attack me, Malfoy_ ,” he snapped. “I know you told me it was stupid to sacrifice myself, and I know you wanted to find a solution, but I don’t think you have, or else you would have told me.” Malfoy said nothing but glared at him, clearly dissatisfied with the turn of the conversation. “If we want peace, if _you and Hermione_ want peace,” he emphasized, “I have to die. So please, Malfoy, don’t try to stop me when I go to him.”

Harry looked at his former nemesis, trying to understand what was going on inside his head. It was not as hard as it had been a few months ago, and he saw numerous things pass through his eyes. Anger, hurt, betrayal and finally, acceptance. The blonde ran one of his hands nervously through his hair.

“Alright, Potter. If this is what you want, then I suppose even I cannot do anything against it. There is something you need to know, though. For you, this is _the end_. Do you realize what I mean?” he said, staring at him intently.

Harry almost lost his words, understanding the meaning of Malfoy’s sentence.

“You… you found the solution?”

“I did. Weeks ago, to be honest, but it was better to wait.”

“Yeah, it was… Thanks, Malfoy.”

The blond nodded, and Harry remembered why he had first been looking for him.

“Someone will have to take care of the snake, you know that. But I want you to take care of Him.”

“Me?” he asked, perplex. “Why me?”

Harry had a lot of reasons, but he would not give them all. At least, not the most important one.

“That’s not hard to guess. You’re better than me at duel. You’ve seen him in combat. Showing yourself will surprise him. And you have a revenge to take. I can’t exactly tell you why, but I have the feeling you got a better chance that I would.”

Malfoy shrugged, unimpressed by his compliments.

“What about your friends? What do I tell them?”

Harry took the letters he had written earlier from a pocket in his trousers, and handed them to the blond.

“You’ll give them the letters when everything is done. I’d like Ginny to have hers first, if you don’t mind. Maybe stay with her if she wants to, or ask Hermione to keep her company. I got one for her too, of course, and for Ron. I also wrote to the Weasleys, Lupin and Tonks and well, my cousin. Not sure his parents should have something from me but they have one too. And the last one… It’s for you, mate.”

Harry could see the shock on Malfoy’s face, and he chuckled.

“You’ve helped us a lot, those last months. You were here when Ron left, and you took care of Hermione better than I did. I think you deserve it.”

The blond took the last envelope from the packet and observed it a long time, thinking, before putting it back with the others and looking directly at him. He rose his pale hand slowly, staring intently at Harry before cracking a tentative smile.

“I’m Draco, Draco Malfoy,” he added, trying his best to stay serious.

“Harry, Harry Potter,” Harry replied, reaching the hand in front of him and shaking it slightly. “Glad to meet you, Draco.”

* * *

His cloak swirling around him, Lucius Malfoy entered the Headmaster’s office, leaving behind him the dust of the fireplace where he had arrived. One of the perks of being close to Snape was that he could arrive directly in this room, and when taking into account the long way from the castle’s gate to the office, Lucius was happy not to waste half an hour of his precious time.

It was late, and Snape was reading an article on his desk, taking notes from time to time. As his friend made no sign that he had seen or heard his arrival, Lucius made the article disappear and sat on the comfortable chair in front of his friend, his most arrogant smile on display.

“Lucius,” Severus said, finally looking at him with skepticism. “Long time no see. What can I do for our Lord?”

Lucius smiled again, this time inwardly. He had thought a lot, today, and was positive he had finally understood where his friend’s loyalty lay. If he was right, Severus was one of the best actors he had ever met. Even he would have not been able to maintain an act that long. However, if his theories were wrong, then he would make sure that his visit was quickly forgotten.

“The Dark Lord did not send me here, Severus. I came by myself.”

Snape looked slightly surprised, but rapidly resumed his questioning.

“Really? I’m sorry to say that, Lucius, but as your son is not in Hogwarts anymore…” the Headmaster began slowly, “… and as the Board has been dissolved, I don’t understand what business you have here. Unless of course, this is just a friendly visit. But we both know that it has not happened for a long time,” he said, crossing his arms in front of him.

Sensing the opportunity, the blond continued the conversation casually.

“Funny you mentioned Draco, Severus, because I’ve thought of him a lot lately. After all, he’s the reason why Narcissa stopped talking to me, almost one year ago. And, if I’m correct, he’s also the reason behind the robbery that happened at Gringotts yesterday.”

Severus could not stop the small twitch of his lips, and his eyes sharpened at the mention of the bank.

“I fail to see the relation between those two events, Lucius. What does the death of your son have to do with a robbery in a bank?”

“Do you know _who_ is accused of this robbery, Severus? No? Actually, I’m not sure the information has reached you yet, our Lord discovered what had happened this morning only, and he left abruptly after we… talked.” He stopped for a moment, letting his friend digest the information. “Narcissa went to the bank, today. She apparently had to retrieve some jewelry she wanted for next month’s ball. This was the first time she talked to me since you returned from your mission last year. A few hours later, the Dark Lord was kind enough to tell me that my wife had _apparently_ broken into her sister’s vault, and taken something _very important_ to him. So, when he tortured me, I tried to understand how on Earth this could have happened. Not everyone knows that, of course, and especially not the Dark Lord, but Narcissa has to wait two more months before being able to take something from her sister’s vault. Because we had no real proof of my son’s death, the goblins told us my wife would have to wait exactly one year before being able to enter his personal vault. That, of course, also applies to Bellatrix’s vault. It is still linked to Draco and, except for the goblins, my son still is the only person in England who can touch what’s inside it. That leaves us with two options.”

Severus' lips had become a thin line, and Lucius knew he understood perfectly what he was not saying yet.

“The first one is that the goblin itself took the object and gave it to my wife, and then lied to the Dark Lord before being killed. The second one is that my son is _alive_ , and my wife helped him secure the artifact, because she somehow knew it was something very important to the Dark Lord. So, tell me, Severus. Which one is it?”

The dark-haired man slowly uncrossed his arms, and leaned forward.

“I think,” he said slowly, “that Potter and his band somehow imperiused your wife, who did the same thing to the goblin. After all, the escaped the Manor. Maybe they had her under the imperius all this time.”

“Severus, Severus…”

The man in front of him seemed to be perfectly calm, but Lucius knew that it was only a matter of time before he had the confirmation of what he wanted to know.

“You and I both know that Kreachur could not have entered the Manor by himself. The last time he came, one of our elves had to take him inside because of the wards. There is no way he was the one who helped Potter escape. But I know _someone else_ who can do that, and I think you know him too.”

He paused, dramatically.

“My _son_ can, Severus. That the second time I mention him, along with something that could not possibly have happened because he is _dead_. But the more I think of it, the more I wonder. Tell me, my friend. What happened that night, really?”

The tension had slowly risen in the room, and Lucius could see that his friend now looked more strained than he usually was. The change was subtle, and someone who did not really know Severus would not have been able to tell the difference. But Lucius could see it. Maybe it was the way the dark-haired man looked at him, as if he was trying to pierce his mental barriers. Or the small tension on his jaw. Or the fact that his hand had slowly put his feather on the table, only to draw near the pocket where Lucius knew his friend kept his wand. He decided to try a new strategy.

“From what I understand, you were the one who helped my son last year, and who faked his death. Don’t look at me like that, old friend, who else would have done it? Do you think I did not see Narcissa’s mark on her wrist? Concealing charms do fade away, after a while, I’m sure you know that. It is not hard to understand what might have happened when knowing _you_ were the one who killed Dumbledore.” Lucius glanced at the old man’s portrait and saw him wide-awake, smiling brightly. “You told my wife you would protect Draco during his task, but that’s not the only thing you did, am I right? You knew what could happen to him afterwards, and you offered him a way out.” He paused, looking at the man in front of him before leaning forward, his head only a few centimeters from his friend’s. “I’m going to be honest with you, Severus. I don’t care anymore who you serve. The only thing I want right now is for my family to be reunited at last, and in no danger. In order to do that, there is only one way.”

Severus’s lips finally moved and he said the sentence Lucius had hoped he would.

“Kill the Dark Lord.”

“Precisely.”

The two men observed each other for a moment, Snape apparently still unsure if he could really trust Lucius. They could have waited a long time if a third voice had not interrupted them.

“And how do you propose to do that, Mr. Malfoy?”

Albus Dumbledore’s portrait was looking directly at him, still smiling.

“There is a battle approaching,” Lucius stated. “I spent the entire afternoon going from camp to camp, trying to gather our allies’ armies. The Dark Lord wishes to launch an attack on the Castle tomorrow morning, and hopes it will make Potter come to him. If it does not work, at least it will send a clear message to the world, and to the boy.”

“And what do you think about that?” Dumbledore asked again, his voice sounding deadly serious this time.

Lucius hesitated, unwilling to voice his thoughts.

“I think this is a mistake. If the school is under attack, the children will have no means of defense, and the Order’s response might arrive too late. To answer your first question, Dumbledore, I have three propositions. First, we need to evacuate the school, and leave only the students who are of age and willing to assist in the battle. Second, we need to contact the Order members. Third, Severus needs to make Potter come, because everyone in this room knows he is the only one who can kill the Dark Lord.”

He saw Severus and Dumbledore exchange a glance, and the old man nodded.

“Mr. Black,” his friend called a portrait. “Does Potter still have your painting with him?”

* * *

“Silence.”

Severus had asked the staff to wake up everyone in the castle, and it had only taken fifteen minutes to gather the students in the Great Hall. Most of them were still wearing pajamas, but some had understood that something serious was about to happen and put their robes on. The chatter died, and he spoke, clearly.

“You have been brought here because in a few hours, a battle is going to take place on the school’s ground. The Dark Lord and his armies are gathering as we speak, and will march upon us as the sun rises. As your Headmaster, your security is my priority.”

He had expected the cries of alarms of the students, but also the Carrow’s reactions and immobilized them quickly when he saw them turn to him, ready to hex.

“Miss Parkinson, please do us all a favor and stop screaming,” he snapped, before continuing his speech. “As I was saying, a battle will begin in only a few hours. Because of this, I’m going to ask every underage student to report to their Head and to leave the school as soon as possible. Your professors are going to open a safe passage through their fireplaces to safe-houses, and I hope that the prefects will stay until everyone is safe to help them. For those foolish enough to want to stay, be reminded that this will not be like what you saw in school, even in my class last year. Our enemies are battle-hardened, and willing to kill.”

No one dared to speak for a few seconds, too astonished to say something. Ignoring his colleagues shocked stares, he continued.

“Now please, follow your professors. And don’t try to act stupidly,” he added, his voice low but menacing in direction of Gryffindor’s table, where the students had begun protesting. “Professor MacGonagall will make sure that every underaged student leaves.”

It would be a pity if half of the students he intended to save died because they had stayed behind. Waiting for the Great Hall to become emptier, he marched in direction of his colleagues.

“As you have, I hope, understood by now, my loyalty does not go to the Dark Lord. However, I cannot lose my cover now, and will have to join him soon. The Order has been warned, as has Potter and his friends been. I’ll do my best to stay in contact with you, and delay the Dark Lord. Use your time wisely to reinforce the castle’s wards, and prepare your defense. I’ll see you in the battle.”

They agreed, and Flitwick was designated as the leader. Satisfied, Severus turned and was rapidly going in direction of his office when he was stopped by the Transfiguration professor.

“Severus. SEVERUS.”

Her face was purposeful, and she crossed the final steps between them.

“Do be careful, Severus,” she said, looking at him in a new manner. “It would be a shame if we could not discuss the most recent events after the battle.”

“I’ll try,” he answered.

And, with that, he left.

* * *

The elf apparating inside of the Room startled them all, and the poor creature almost had a heart-attack seeing their wands pointed in its direction.

“Headmaster Snape says the students have to go to the Great Hall right now,” it begun, his big ears trembling. “He says the Dark Lord is coming, and Harry Potter too. He says the younger students need to go home, and the older need to fight.”

He disappeared quickly, apparently too afraid to wait for an answer.

“So, Neville,” Seamus said to his friend, “what do we do?”

* * *

He and Hermione apparated directly in the office, and Draco was not surprised to see his godfather in front of them. He nodded in his direction, resisting the urge to embrace the man. He would see that he was properly rewarded for all the actions he had done in the past few years. Behind him, he heard the rest of the group apparate.

“Welcome home, Potter,” Snape said when he was sure that everyone was there. “I trust the Order as received your message?”

“They have,” answered Bill. “They’re waiting for us to tell them we’ve left your office, though, they don’t want it to be too crowded for the apparition.”

Snape nodded again.

“The professors have been properly warned, and the under-aged students are leaving as we speak,” he said, in Harry’s direction. The Boy-Who-Lived looked relieved. “And your friends from the… D.A.” he said with some disdain, “have been informed of your arrival as well. Mr. Londubat should be waiting in the Great Hall.”

“Thank you, sir. We wanted to ask you if the elves could take part in the battle too. After all, it’s their home they will be defending.”

The headmaster shrugged.

“I don’t see why not. I trust your two companions will take care of their little army?”

“Dobby and Kreacher will help Harry Potter, Headmaster Snape!” told the little elf. “Kreacher tells Dobby he has some ideas sir, and Dobby is sure that the other elves will agree to his plans!”

“Good. If that’s all, I’ll leave you to it. I need to prepare to meet the Dark Lord, now. He has not requested my presence, but I’ll go tell him the teachers rebelled against my authority and made me leave the castle. I won’t tell him you or the Order are here,” he said to Harry, “this should delay him for a while. But the attack is supposed to happen at dawn, so don’t lose time.”

Draco watched his godfather reach for the window and open it, before jumping from its edge. He did not fall, however, but rose through the sky, his cloak making him look like an oversized bat in the horizon.

“I think we can all agree he has a thing for dramatics,” Weasley commented with a bored tone.

* * *

“Harry!’

“Ron, Hermione!”

“My god, is that really them?”

“They look well, don’t you think?”

“Why is _Malfoy_ here?”

Cries were erupting all around them, and Harry was not sure where to look. Most of the students had left, but Dumbledore’s Army and now, the Army of the Order, had joined them in the Great Hall, where Professor MacGonagall was busy organizing the defenses. Looking was a bad idea, he thought, when he caught sight of Neville’s face.

“My god,” he heard Hermione murmur behind him, “what happened to you Neville?”

“Oh, that’s nothing,” the boy shrugged, pointing in the direction of someone standing beside him. “I swear Seamus decided it was a competition at one point and did his best to win.”

Hermione seemed torn between telling him that Seamus looked indeed more like a hone that he did, or saying it was not something to make fun of. Finally, she decided to stay silent, and just smiled awkwardly at her friends.

“But you’ve not told us why _he_ was here. Or _her_ ,” Neville continued, looking defiantly at Lady Malfoy. “One of them is supposed to be dead, and the other our enemy.”

“Too long to tell, mate,” said Ron. “Just trust us when we say they’re on our side, now.”

Draco did not look at ease, but his mother just ignored the threatening glares. Deciding they had no time to lose quarrelling, Harry put his hands in the air, trying to get everyone’s attention.

“I’ll just say this once so please pay attention. These two Malfoys are with us, and Lucius Malfoy too. He and Snape will be on the other side, however, so please try not to maim them. At least, not too much.” Some of the students sneered. “I mean it. They cannot break their cover now because that could still help us a lot, and we don’t want them to die because they’ve been discovered. Are we clear?”

Most of the students mumbled but, to Harry’s relief, none of them decided to challenge what he had just said. Looking behind him, he saw that Hagrid had arrived.

“Hagrid, good to see you! Would you mind coming beside me for a minute?”

The half-giant smiled and came nearer, and Harry resumed his instructions.

“Professor MacGonagall and her colleagues are busy improving the wards, and I think we can all agree that the members of the Order have enough experience to help them. For the D.A. members, however, I’d like you to stay here for a moment and listen to Hagrid. Hagrid,” he asked his friend. “We know that giants, along with Acromantulas and werewolf are going to be here. Would you mind giving us a few tips to fight them, if you know any? And Malfoy,” he told the blond, who was trying not too subtly to go help the teachers with Hermione behind him. “I think they could benefit from one or two of those hexes you showed me, and information about the Death-Eaters you know and what we can expect of them during the battle.”

The blond grumbled and came back, but not before putting a quick kiss on Hermione’s forehead.

“Yeah hum,” said Harry, looking at the horrified looks of his friends’ faces. “That’s another thing we will talk about when we are done here.”

* * *

They had been here for almost one hour when the Heads of Houses came back, followed by some 7th year prefects.

“We’re done with the students, Minerva,” said professor Slughorn. “And I’m particularly happy to tell you that _all_ of the houses are going to contribute to the battle effort,” he continued proudly, pointing behind him.

To Ron’s horror, but Draco’s delight, two long figures appeared behind him, both dressed impeccably in school robes.

“Sorry if we’re late, everyone,” said Blaise Zabini, looking smugly around him.

“Is there something we can help you with?” added Theodore Nott, smiling to the teachers in front of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking of posting the rest of the fic this week, what do you think??
> 
> Krummbein


	16. The Battle of the Five Armies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just discovered that my note did not appear, sorry for that!  
> The chapter is named after the Hobbit (of course), I had been reading that book at the time.
> 
> Enjoy that chapter, there's only one more :D
> 
> Krummbein

They apparated on a small hill behind the lands of Hogwarts, long before the sun came up. Already, Lucius could feel the anticipation building everywhere around him. Some had only come to kill, and he shivered when he saw Greyback’s former pack a few meters in front of him. Some Death-Eaters had suggested going to Hogsmeade for a small warm up, but the Dark Lord had already decided he would march straight to the Castle. Plus, attacking Hogsmeade would give the inhabitants enough time to warn the teachers, and the Dark Lord wanted Hogwarts taken rapidly. The Order, and maybe Potter, would come to their aid, yes, but they planned to already be in the castle when the time came.

The hill was small, and wizards and creatures alike were still arriving. The army of the Dark Lord was there, of course, but also the second army, mainly composed of various magical beings – werewolves, acromantulas, dementors. The giants were not there yet, because transportation had proved to be difficult, but the Dark Lord himself had tried and found a solution.

“Lucius…”

Severus’s voice was faint, but he heard it still and moved near his friend. He felt the Muffliato charm expand around them and relaxed a bit. Even the Dark Lord did not know of it, Severus had really played his cards well.

“Yes?”

“I suggest we try to stay together; in case we have to blow our cover. I wouldn’t want Dolohov to curse me, if you see what I mean.”

He knew perfectly, yes. The curse he had thrown at the Granger girl a few years ago had been impressive, but he would not have wanted to be the one to receive it. Worse, now that the Death Eater worked closely with the Dark Lord on Merlin knew what deadly project, it was better to fly from him. Malfoy's reputation or not, his survival was essential. He would reunite with his family whatever the cost was.

“MY FRIENDS.”

Voldemort’s voice was not amplified, yet every one of his soldiers heard him perfectly and they stopped talking, eager to hear what their Master had to say. Lucius’ tension rose further, and he was grateful for his mask covering his face. 

“Today, we make history. Today, we _take Hogwarts_!”

Cheers erupted from the ranks, and the Dark Lord let a few seconds pass before continuing.

“I know you’ve waited for a long time to prove your worth, and today you shall be rewarded. In less than two hours, we will march on the Castle, and _we will submit everyone in it_. Magical blood should not be spilled if unnecessary, of course, however Mudbloods and Blood-traitors have no place in the world we want to build. Kill the teachers, keep the students alive. And when Potter arrives, bring him to me, untouched.”

He paused, waiting to see if anyone would dare to say something.

“The real battle will come after, of course. I would not want you to think your only contribution to our cause is some kind of baby-sitting.” A few laughs erupted from Lucius’ right, but stopped quickly. “We will let enough time pass for the Order and their allies to come to us,” he said, an ugly smile on his lips. “This rebellion must be crushed for good and in order to do that, we will make a few examples. I said kill Mudbloods and Blood-Traitors, but not all of them. Besides Potter, I also want his two friends to be taken prisoners. A public execution will occur a few days after our victory. If you don’t find them, the Weasley girl will.”

Cheers erupted again and this time, Voldemort did not stop his followers.

* * *

Dawn was almost there and Draco paced restlessly in the Great Hall, trying to think of everything but Voldemort’s ultimatum. The announcement had not surprised them – they knew his army must be near – but it had only increased their apprehension. Their only advantage would be that the Dark Lord did not know that the reinforcement had already arrived. They knew they had not enough people in their ranks, and that many of them had not been properly trained for battle. They knew the other armies would be deadly to many of them, and that most of them would lose a family member or a friend.

But they did not regret being here. Every one of them had perfectly understood that they would have to kill some Death Eaters and most of the creatures the Dark Lord had recruited, but they had no idea how to deal with the imperiused witches and wizards. Killing them was not an option, and dangerous curses either. Their only hope was that after a while, the casters would be dead or unable to maintain the curse and the prisoner’s mind would be free once again. But to be able to recognize them, well…

Around him, people were coming and going, trying to take advantage of the few minutes they had before the battle. The teachers had reinforced the castle’s wards – they knew Severus would have to lower the ones he had put as a Headmaster – and the rest of them had prepared for the worst-case scenario. Against all odds (Draco still holds a few grudges against the half-giant) Hagrid’s advice had proved to be useful. While they had no way of preventing attacks against the giants, they had found some solutions for the Acromantulas and other deadly beasts.

He looked at Theo and Blaise, happily chatting with some Order members. They seemed fairly relaxed, easily blending in the little group and making some jokes to improve the atmosphere, but he knew better than to trust their faces. Theo’s father would be there, and Blaise’s new father-in-law, too. The three of them would be as targeted as Harry and his friends. At least, he knew his own apparition in the Battle would throw doubt in their enemies’ mind, giving him a few precious seconds to attack first.

He felt a small hand on his back, and he turned to see that Hermione was behind him.

“Are you anxious?” she asked, her arms around his chest. He squeezed her hand.

“Of course. There are so many lives at stake, yours including.”

“I know,” she answered sadly. “I wish there was another solution.”

“Yeah, I wished too,” he said, bringing her closer to him and kissing her forehead. “There is a chance for victory, but you know as well as I do that it is very small.”

She nodded.

“Hermione,” he continued. “I want you to promise me something.”

She raised her head, looking at him.

“If we lose, I want you to leave.”

He knew she was outraged before she had even begun to talk.

“I can’t possibly…”

“Please,” he begged, “you know perfectly that neither you or Weasley will live if he wins. He’ll make an example of you. And what Bella did to you, trust me, will be nothing compared to that.”

“I…”

“Hermione.”

She sighed, bringing her hand to her hair and nervously pulling them out of her face. He summoned a hairband and gave it to her. She took it and vigorously put her hairs into a semblance of bun.

“I will if you will. And that’s final,” she said, a determined look on her face. “But it’s only if we don’t have the choice. And if there’s a hope to flee and come back again to fight later, I will do it. I don’t want to abandon my friends, the Weasleys, or even your mother.”

“I don’t want that either,” was all he said.

A deafening sound was suddenly heard, and the floor shook under them. They looked at each other, trying to stay calm. The battle had begun.

She had lost sight of Harry some fifteen minutes ago. Ron had gone with him after a Death Eater, and she had not seen them since. She had recognized Severus at the beginning of the Death Eaters forced entry in the Castle – he had _unfortunately_ lost his mask – and noted that Lucius was near him. Draco had not let her leave her since the first Death Eater had emerged from the debris of the main door and they were still untouched.

Draco’s presence had been an asset at the beginning, as well as Theo and Blaise. The first Death-Eaters, confused, had been unable to move for a few seconds, giving them enough time to neutralize them and let the elves take them to the kitchens where the prisoners were kept. However, after they had quickly recovered from the shock and understood that the boys in front of them were now their enemies. It had only seemed to anger them more.

* * *

“Fuck.”

“Everything’s alright?” she asked Draco, heart beating dangerously in her chest mainly from the fear that had not left her since the battle had begun.

“Tonks,” he said, and she saw his cousin trying to make her way into the battle.

“I thought she was supposed to stay home!” she said, confused. Why wasn’t she with Teddy?

“Stupid woman, too stubborn for her own good,” she heard him grumble, not looking in the Auror’s direction. “Must have come for her stupid werewolf.”

“Why couldn’t she just…” but she stopped, seeing a determinate woman meet her halfway through the main corridor.

“HERMIONE, FOCUS,” Draco screamed to her, blocking a curse coming from the nearest Death Eater.

“But your mother…” she said, trying to hold the shield in front of her.

“Won’t let anything happen to any of them if she can, trust me. Now, help me get rid of this sucker,” he asked, pointing his wand in the direction of the masked wizard in front of them.

* * *

“Hello, Minister! Did I mention I’m resigning?”

He and Ron had been running from Crabbe’s last mistake – an indestructible fire he had created when he had tried to trap them a few minutes before – when they saw Fred and Percy dueling the Minister of Magic in a narrow corridor. Harry eyed Ron and both of them changed directions to help the two red-heads.

“You actually are joking, Perce ... I don’t think I’ve heard you joke since you were…”

Fred had no time to finish his sentence however, because the wall behind them exploded, making everyone fly across the corridor. Harry heard Ron crash behind him and swear loudly, and someone screamed from the other side of the passageway. There was a crumbling sound, and he prayed that no-one was near the wall when it collapsed.

When he opened his eyes a few seconds later his vision was blurry, and not only from his lack of glasses. He felt Ron move behind him and heard him run towards the source of the explosion.

“FUCK, FRED.”

Percy was already digging under the thick pile of rubble, trying to free the men that had been trapped.

“FRED, FRED CAN YOU HEAR ME?”

Regaining his balance, Harry glanced in both directions and was relieved to note that the giant that had blasted the wall was already gone to attack another part of the castle.

A small pile of rubble began to shake, and the two brothers moved back, still helping whoever was under it to emerge by levitating the blocks of stone.

“Mr. Malfoy?”

Percy’s voice was unsure and it took him a few seconds before he was able to move again, but Ron had already helped the older man carrying his brother to safety.

“I’m sorry,” the blond said, glancing at Fred’s crushed leg. “I was at the corner looking for Severus when the explosion occurred and I did not have the time to protect him correctly.”

“That’s alright,” said Percy, his voice blank. “You still saved him, that’s enough for us.”

Malfoy nodded, and put his mask back on.

“I can’t stay here,” he said, desillusionning himself. “The Dark Lord just called for me, this is not good at all. Be cautious,” he added, disappearing.

They lost no time and took Fred by the arms, and helped Percy drag him to an empty classroom where they transfigured the nearest chair into a long bandage to stop the bleeding from his wound. He had never been so glad for muggle first aid courses.

“I can’t believe Lucius Malfoy just saved his life,” Ron told him after they left. “I mean, we owe him now, can you believe that? I think dad might have a fit when we tell him.”

He could believe it, but he found that he did not care at all when he saw that Voldemort had asked the man to go and fetch Severus Snape.

* * *

“We have to go to the Shrieking Shack!”

“Potter, where the Hell have you been all this time?” Draco said to the boy in front of him.

He knew it was only a matter of time before he left to meet his death, but the git had no right to go before saying goodbye to Hermione. It was bad enough to know that she might never forgive him for hiding the truth.

“Voldemort asked for Snape, and I have a very bad feeling about this,” Potter answered, ignoring Draco’s question. The blond sighed, recognizing that he was right. A summoning from the Dark Lord rarely ended well.

“Let’s find somewhere safe to apparate away,” he said, grabbing his girlfriend’s hand. “I’ll cover for you, Potter.”

* * *

They had observed the entire discussion desillusioned and hidden under the cloak, and Voldemort had confirmed what Harry had suspected from a few weeks. Their enemy was not the master of the Elder Wand, but neither was Severus Snape. It was Draco Malfoy.

“Harry!” breathed Hermione behind him.

He felt something move beside him, and he understood that Draco had already left to go to his Godfather’s side.

“Let’s go,” he said to his friends.

Snape’s eyes were unfocused, and he could hear the blond muttering something rapidly. Hermione took her bag and revealed a small vial of potion that she gave their former professor, while Draco applied a balm he had summoned on the man’s wounds. The blond swore, and Harry saw that Snape had passed out.

“Is he going to survive?” Ron asked, watching the corridor silently from behind the door.

“I’m not sure,” Hermione responded, checking his pulse. “But I think that if we give him the Draught of the Living Death, we might be able to slow the process and take him back to the castle.”

“Do you think it’s safe?” Draco said.

“It is,” Harry responded, trying to ignore the stabbing pain in his head. “ _He_ is about to stop the battle.”

As he spoke, a high, cold voice was heard.

“You have fought valiantly,” it said. “Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery. Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste. Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat, immediately. You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured.” The voice changed into a hiss, and Harry recognized Parselmouth. “I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, the battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour.”

* * *

They had brought Snape back to the Great Hall, and Mrs. Pomfrey had immediately begun to treat him. Draco had stayed with him until he was sure that everything would be fine, and Hermione had gone to the Weasleys. Harry had told them that one of the twins had lost a leg, and that his father was the one who had saved him from a certain death. And that information bothered Draco a lot.

From as long as he could remember, he had loved his father deeply. He was powerful and respected, strict but just. Draco had been a spoiled child, he knew that now, but he also knew it had to do with the fact that he was the only child they had been able to conceive and keep. With his father at his side, Draco felt above the rest of their world.

Everything had changed when the Dark Lord had returned. His father had lost his power, his confidence, and the situation had only deteriorated further when he had come back from Azkaban. But worse than that, he had not been there to protect _him_. He had even encouraged him to succeed in his mission, trying to regain the good graces of his master. Just recently, he would not have hesitated to bring Hermione in front of the Dark Lord, because she was with Potter.

And now, he had become a traitor, and Draco could not understand why. Was it because he knew his Master was doomed, and he wanted to be sure to stay out of prison? Or because his wife’s disappearance had made him understand that everything he had done so far was wrong? But his only son’s death had not done that, and Draco had not stopped trying to understand his father’s motivation since Severus had contacted them.

He looked away from the Weasleys, and his eyes stopped on the numerous bodies that were aligned on the floor, and that people kept bringing from the outside. He had recognized some students, including the Muggleborn boy that had annoyed Harry in second year, but also Lupin, his cousin’s husband. Crabbe’s body was not there, reduced to ashes because of his idiocy. Blaise had been able to extinguish the fire with Theo’s help, but it had taken them a lot of energy and they were now lying on two beds, not far from Professor Sprout who was tending on a wound on his mother’s wrist. He went to her.

“Mother.”

“Draco,” she smiled. “I’m happy to see that you are unarmed. Is Hermione alright?”

“She is, thank you. She helped me take care of uncle Severus. You should have seen her; she was really efficient! She should consider a career in medical healing instead of helping magical creatures.”

“Wherever she goes, I’m sure she’ll make a difference.”

“She sure will,” he agreed, not able to stop himself from smiling too.

“Are your Gryffindor friends alright?” she asked.

He almost corrected her but had to recognize that even the redheaded had become some sort of companion since the beginning of their little adventure. But he would be damned if he was caught agreeing that they might be on friendly terms. They only had a truce. A very long-term truce.

“Weasley is with his family. Harry is…”

He looked around, tensing when he realized the bespectacled boy was nowhere to be found. _Fucking Gryffindor,_ he thought angrily, _left without saying goodbye_.

* * *

It had only lasted a second. Or had it been an hour?

Potter, always the perfect Gryffindor, had come, as predicted by the Dark Lord. Lucius knew he was fool enough to accept the bargain, but he would have thought that he would be the last to abandon the fight. He had been slightly disappointed when he had seen the raven-haired boy appear from under his cloak.

There had been no fighting, and the Elder Wand had hit its target with no difficulty. What had surprised him, however, was that Potter had not been the only one to fall. His (former) master had collapsed on the ground as soon as the curse had touched the boy’s chest.

No one had dared to move and they had stayed there, unable to take a decision, until the Dark Lord had finally regained consciousness.

And now, crouched above Potter’s still body, he was trying to stay calm. Because there was a pulse. A strong, racing pulse. The boy lived, and he had apparently realized that his fate was now in Lucius’ hands. He knew what he had to do.

“The boy is dead, my Lord,” he announced, while standing up.

The half-giant’s cry was almost painful to hear, but he had no time for that. He had to help Potter escape, and then to help him get rid of the Dark Lord. He looked for the cloak, hoping he would find a way to give it back to the boy. To his surprise, it had disappeared.

_So, he has a plan?_ he thought. _Interesting._

* * *

“We have to leave, Hermione.”

“I can’t.”

They had stopped listening to Voldemort, bragging about his victory against Harry, and he could see tears coming from her already red eyes. She wiped her nose with her sleeve and focused on her friend’s corpse. No. On the snake.

“We have to finish what we have begun. We have to kill the snake. Then, if none of us is alive, maybe someone can kill _Him_.”

But how could they do that? Voldemort was surrounded by his loyal servants, and no one would be able to go near him without being killed instantly. Suddenly he heard his name, and focused on what was being said.

“… I must say I was surprised to see you alive, boy, but I should not have been when I discovered that you and your little friends were already there. I should have understood that Severus was a traitor the moment we had to put the new wards down. But Draco, can’t you see that the side you chose has already lost? I am willing to forgive you this once, boy, but only for your father’s sake. Lucius served me loyally, and accepted to be punished every time he failed. You should have done the same, last year, I would have been merciful. Now come to me, Draco, come back to your family and forget your blood-traitor friends. You and your mother will be welcomed among us like every pure-blood should.”

Draco swore quietly and a spasm of anger went through his arms, making him clench his fists so hard his knuckles went white. Was the bastard really thinking he was going to accept his proposition?

“HE WILL NOT GO TO YOU.”

Draco nearly jumped, recognizing the clear voice who had spoken from the crowd.

“And who is this?” Voldemort said, in his soft snake’s hiss.

“That’s Neville Longbottom, my Lord,” Draco heard his father say. “The son of those two Aurors my dear sister-in-law… encountered some fifteen years ago.”

“Ah yes. Another pureblood, if I’m not mistaken. Voldemort admires courage too, boy. After all, weren’t Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor great friends, before the Mudbloods were allowed to Hogwarts? There is a place for you at my side, if you want it. In fact, every pureblood that played a part in this battle is encouraged to come to me and make an oath to serve my cause, if they are willing to do so. The rest of you well… We’ll see about that later.”

“I’ll join you when hell freezes over,” said Neville. “Dumbledore’s Army!” he shouted, and there was an answering cheer from the crowd, whom Voldemort’s silencing charms seemed unable to hold. Draco snorted when he heard them. Stupid.

“Too bad,” said Voldemort. “I wanted to wait for a bit before demonstrating what would happen to those continuing to defy me but it seems that I don’t have the choice. Mulciber,” he called, and the man came to him, wand ready.

Two things happened simultaneously. A huge bird flew above Neville and dumped something that looked suspiciously like the Sorting Hat on his head, while a giant who had appeared from behind the castle suddenly screamed “HAGGER” and began to try to force his passage through the Death Eaters, apparently trying to get to… Hagrid?

_Wait a minute, does that mean…_

Draco could not think further because a flash of silver caught his eye, and he noticed that Neville was now looking astonished at a blade that had suddenly appeared from inside of the Hat. Was the sword not supposed to be in Hermione’s bag?

“HARRY!” Hagrid was shouting, desperately trying to find the corpse he had had in his arms only a few seconds earlier. “WHERE IS HARRY?”

“What the…” Draco began, but Hermione stopped him, showing him the commotion near Voldemort.

Distracted by the half-giant’s screams, their enemy had stopped focusing on everything around him, including Neville Longbottom. Blade in his hands, the Gryffindor had run through the crowd of wizards who were gathering once again to fight, and sliced off the snake’s head.

“Oh my God,” she said, not believing her eyes “he did it!”

* * *

Harry had slipped through Hagrid’s arms when Graup had shouted, taking advantage of the confusion of everyone around him. Still hidden under his cloak, he observed how Voldemort and his followers were backed into the Great Hall, surrounded by a mass of fighters, and slowly began to lose their allies. Neville had beaten Mulciber, and Ron and Percy had teamed against one of the last werewolves.

“LUCIUS,” he heard a feminine voice scream in terror, “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HIM?”

Narcissa Malfoy stood above her husband’s unmoving body, looking in Dolohov’s direction in horror. The man did not answer and pointed his wand at Draco, who was duelling Yaxley with Hermione.

“NOT MY SON, YOU SON OF A BITCH.”

Laughing, Dolohov turned around to fight her, and Harry felt his heart stop when the Death Eater wand flashed. He recognized that curse.

“PROTEGO!” he roared, and he pulled off his invisibility cloak, aiming at the man. He did not know if it was the shock to see him alive, or simply the fact that he was faster than him, but Dolohov was too slow to respond and before long Harry had his wand in the hand and Narcissa had body-binded him.

On every side of him, screams and cheers erupted, and he saw that Voldemort had finally seen him.

“Don’t help me right now,” Harry said to the crowd who had gathered around them. “Tom and I need to have a small chat.”

* * *

Draco had wanted to roll his eyes when he had heard Harry speak. _A_ _small chat with the Dark Lord_ , _really Potter? I hope history doesn’t remember that sentence._

“You see Tom,” Draco cringed when he heard the name for the second time. “You seem to think that I’m the one destinated to kill you, but that’s not the case.”

“Really?” Voldemort asked. “And why would you think that? The prophecy concerns you and me, we established that fact a long time ago.”

“That’s correct,” Potter said, “but the Prophecy has been fulfilled. You killed me. I died. And lived. Again. And now that you don’t have Horcruxes anymore, anyone here can kill you.”

The Dark Lord seemed unsettled for a moment, but he quickly regained his confidence.

“Let’s imagine that what you said is right, did you forget about the Elder Wand? I can’t lose a fight with it.”

“Grindelwad did,” said Harry.

“Only because he did not want to kill Dumbledore. Every sensible person knows that he only stayed in prison because he wanted to. I killed Severus Snape. I’m its master.”

Draco saw Harry smile at that.

“Snape never was its Master. He was not the one who disarmed Dumbledore.”

_Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck._

“Who…” Voldemort began , but he was stopped by Potter who had send a jinx in his direction, giving him enough time to destabilize his enemy and disappear to safety.

“DRACO, NOW,” he heard Potter scream.

He reacted only by instinct, blocking the deadly curse that Voldemort had sent towards him with all his strength and the two spells collided, creating a shower of red and green sparks. To the Dark Lord’s surprise, the Elder Wand suddenly slipped from his hands and flew high in the air, aiming directly at him, and sent one last curse against the man who wanted to kill its master. Draco froze on the spot, watching the scene as if he was not part of it.

The sound of Voldemort’s body hitting the ground resonated through the silent hall, reverbing against the damaged walls. The silence continued for one more second, just enough time for everyone to understand what had happened. Then the screams broke around him and suddenly he was surrounded by dozens of people, each one of them trying to reach for him, hug him, thank him.

_Fuck_ , he thought again, trying to process what had just happened. _I just killed the Dark Lord._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll publish the next chapter this weekend, I think Sunday.  
> Until then,
> 
> Krummbein


	17. 19 Days Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here you have it, the last chapter of my very first fic!  
> It's an epilogue, of course, I hope you'll like it :)
> 
> Krummbein

There had been many funerals, too many if you asked Harry.

And he had been to all of them.

Because, even if Hermione tried to tell him that nothing was his fault, that it was Voldemort’s, he felt like he had been the one to kill them. He knew he should listen to her, but he had not been able to stop the pang of guilt he felt every time he offered his condolences to the families, when there was one left.

The worst had been the Creevey’s, who had not understood how their son could have died in a battle. Had there been a war in their community? Colin had told them there were some problems, but never their extent, and the Creevey had thought he and his younger brother were at school during the previous months. Dennis – whom the trio had retrieved from the hideout after the Battle – had been quiet, still feeling guilty for not being there when his brother had grabbed someone's cloak and apparated out to Hogwarts.

And now, Harry sat on a chair next to Tonks, holding Hermione’s hand who was behind him, trying desperately to forget that Lupin – the last link he had with his parents – was being buried. Tonks was quietly crying, holding her son next to her heart, while her mother stared impassively at her own husband’s – empty – coffin.

Hermione’s hand tightened around his own, and he stared as both graves were finally covered with marble headstones. Tonks' cries intensified and Teddy woke up, screaming. Andromeda handed the child to her sister, who was seated to her left, and took her daughter’s hand, leading her to the apparition point. No one said anything until they had disappeared, and only Teddy’s cries broke the uncomfortable silence from the graveyard. Narcissa Malfoy was the first one to move, taking her great-nephew with her.

“Draco,” she said, “I’ll be at the Manor if you need me. I think Andromeda and her daughter need some time together. I suppose you will go to Potter's?” she asked, eying her son and his girlfriend.

“Yes,” he answered, “I think we all need to lie down for a bit before going to the Burrow. Will you be there?”

“Of course,” she smiled, “Nymphadora will want her son back with her when she is better. I think an entire afternoon will be enough. I'll come after that.”

Draco nodded and stood up, followed by Hermione and Ron. Harry watched Mrs. Malfoy leave and turned to his friends, feeling relieved. This was the last time they would have to meet under such circumstances before many years, or at least he hoped so.

“Back to the house, then?” Ron asked.

“I don’t know,” Draco responded. “It’s almost lunch time and I don’t feel like going back right now.”

“Kreacher will have cooked something for us,” Ron said, looking unsure between Draco and Harry. The elf’s cooking almost surpassed his mother’s, according to him, and he did not really want to miss a meal.

“Why don’t we go, Ron and I, and you and Hermione find a quiet place to eat?” Harry proposed. “We’ll meet later, or at the Burrow.”

Hermione had told him last night about their impending trip to Australia, and their lack of time to plan it. Now, they had the perfect excuse to finally relax and talk about it.

“Thanks Harry,” his friend smiled, looking at him warmly.

“Well, have a nice lunch then,” Ron told them. “And don’t forget that mum wants us at 6 p.m. sharp for the feast.”

“We won’t,” Draco told him. “I’ll ask Mother to find something to drink.”

“Dad will appreciate that,” answered the red-headed.

Then, he looked at Harry, who nodded, and took them both back to Grimmauld Place.

* * *

“I can’t believe this is finally over.”

Hermione was spread over the sofa, holding a slice of pizza in her hand. They had not found anywhere quiet enough to eat, and it had been Draco’s idea to go to her parent’s house. They had moved her things back and he had ordered pizzas, while Hermione had turned on the electricity so that they could watch a movie.

“Well," he said, "this is not totally over. We still have my hearing and Mother’s in two days, and your parents to get it before the end of the month.”

"The hearing is just a formality," she told him, squeezing his knee. "Kingsley told us the Wizengamot will be lenient for both of you. The maximum you could have is house-arrest and restricted use of your magic for a few years. And you've seen it the past few weeks, people know the truth, now. They won't go back to hating you just because you are sentenced."

He took another slice of his pizza, squeezing her hand in return. She could tell how uneasy he was, thinking of the trial. He was still convinced that the Weasleys would one day stop pretending they had accepted his apologies and hate him for being with her. And there was still the matter of Lucius Malfoy… Hermione looked at him, trying to find the best way to word what she had wanted to tell him for a few days.

“Draco, don’t you think it is time you go visit your father?”

She saw him tense, and he stopped eating.

“I know you haven’t forgiven him everything that happened, but the Healers have told your mother his chances of waking up are very slim now…If you have something you want to tell him, I think that this may be the last opportunity you have.”

No one knew what curse had hit Lucius Malfoy, and the Healers had been trying to bring him out of his coma with no success so far. Their last report had not been good, as they had found that his magical reserve had been almost drained. For them, it was a sign of his imminent death. The new Minister had sent an expert to Dolohov’s house to find some lead about the curse, but the place had been warded and it had taken almost two weeks to finally enter the man’s study.

“I know that, Hermione, it’s just…" he paused, gazing at the telly. "There are so many things I want to say, so many things I want to ask… and if I go there now and talk to him while he is asleep, it would be like giving up, you know? Giving up the fact that he could still wake up, and that we could discuss everything."

"I understand," she said, a sad smile on her face. "But wouldn't it be better to go there and say what you have on your heart, even if he is asleep, that to spend the rest of your life regretting not telling him how you felt?"

"I…"

There was a sudden commotion coming from Hermione's bedroom, and both of them jumped on their feet and ran towards the stairs. It took less than a minute to arrive in front of the door, and she blasted it with her wand. Before she could attack whoever had entered her home, she stopped right where she was, finally noticing the source of the noise. On her bed was a small elf, backing away from one of Hermione's oldest toys which must have fallen with the rest of the stuff she usually kept on a shelf: a musical book. The poor creature seemed distressed by the noise coming from it and screamed when she saw Draco, torn between staying where she was and going to her master.

"M… m… master Draco! The creature attacked Brownie when she arrived in Miss's room!"

Draco crossed the room and took the toy from the bed, switching it off under the elf's careful glaze.

"Brownie," he said, "what are you doing there? Did mother send you? I thought you were supposed to help redecorate the dining room today?"

Hermione huffed in annoyance. Redecorate the dining room, really? What kind of stupid task was that? And it was _Saturday_.

The elf began to shake, not willing to look at him. That wasn't good.

"Something terrible happened," she said, her voice quivering. "The Master…"

"What? The Master WHAT?" Draco nearly yelled.

"Brownie doesn't know, Master," she answered, panicking. "The healers called Mistress Narcissa telling her that something had happened to Master Lucius, and Mistress went to St Mungo, and she called Brownie and asked her to warn her son, and she was screaming to the Healers that it was terrible!"

Hermione took her boyfriend's hand before he did something to her old toy – he was holding it so tight she thought he was going to break it.

"Draco, I think Brownie may go back to her… tasks – she tried not to sound too annoyed when she said that – and we can apparate right away to St Mungo."

"Right. Do as she say," he told the elf, "I'll call you if need be."

The elf bowed and disappeared with a small pop, leaving them alone.

"Let's go," Draco said, guiding her to the house's apparition point.

* * *

"I'm here to see Lucius Malfoy," Harry said, breathing heavily. "I've been sent by Minister Shakelbolt."

They – Harry, Ron, and Kingsley – had been at the Minister's office when Hermione's patronus had showed up, telling them that something had happened to Lucius. Kingsley had asked him to go and see what it was, and Harry had jumped in the nearest chimney.

The witch at the desk looked at him with an annoyed look, before pointing to the board behind her.

"Mr. Malfoy is in room number 12, on the fourth floor," she answered dryly, before calling for the next person.

Recognizing the dismissal Harry left, muttering about common courtesy, and tried his best not to run directly to the room. Hermione's voice had been tense, and he had not liked it at all. He stopped at the door and roughly made himself presentable, before knocking. Almost fifteen minutes had passed since he had received the patronus, and he hoped nothing bad had happened.

It was Narcissa who opened, and he could not help but remark on her extreme paleness. Behind her, he could see Hermione, rocking Teddy; and Draco, who was nervously talking to…

Lucius Malfoy.

Harry stared for a few seconds, feeling his heart rate go down. Lucius was alive. Good. Then why had Hermione seemed so nervous in her message?

"Mr. Potter," the man said, addressing him courteously. "I suppose you were sent by the… the new Minister?"

Ah yes, he had still no idea of what had happened since the battle.

"I was, Mr. Malfoy," he answered, carefully going to the man's side. "Hermione sent him a patronus and because of her tone he thought that, well…"

"That I was dead? No," the older Malfoy smiled. "Although I do understand why he would have assumed that. Everyone around me has been very nervous since they discovered what had really happened."

Behind him, Harry heard Narcissa let out a small sob, and Hermione shifted uncomfortably. Draco had turned his eyes away from his father's gaze. Harry looked at him, trying to see if something was different.

"We understood it after a few tests. The Healers seemed desperate about it. But you see," he began. "The more I think about it, the more I find that I can't be angry."

He carefully replaced a strand of hair that had fallen aside and continued.

"Dolohov had been working closely with the Dark Lord on a spell dedicated to the… Muggle-borns," he said, giving Hermione an uneasy look. "We – I mean the other Death-Eaters and I – knew that it would be bad, but did not know what it was. When Dolohov discovered that I had changed sides during the battle, he decided to punish me by making me his first victim. This curse was apparently created to remove magic from witches and wizards who were not seen as worthy of it. In another word," he said, after having stopped almost an entire minute, "I've become nothing more than a Squib."

Narcissa let out another sob and Harry froze, trying to process what he had just heard. Lucius Malfoy, the man whose name could be cited as an example for blood purist in a dictionary, had lost his magic and had been reduced to someone he had despised heavily for the majority of his life.

Suddenly Harry realized he felt something for this man, this man he had hated as much as he had hated Draco not so long ago, something he would never have thought he would feel one day.

Pity.

"Please, Mr. Potter. Not you too."

Lucius Malfoy was looking directly at him, his face serene.

"As a matter of fact, I think this is only a fair retribution for my past acts. I'm lucky enough to be alive and well – except for that small change, of course. Maybe this will help me understand better the life of people who I previously thought were my inferiors."

Both Draco and Hermione raised their heads and looked at him. Lucius' smile widened.

"And well," he finally said in Hermione's direction. "I'm pretty sure I will find someone to help me adjust to my new life once everything goes back to normal."

* * *

The trip was _awesome_. Draco had not been able to sleep a lot, too eager to watch the sky or to talk to the crew members, asking about planes, gravity, and stuff like that. Hermione had watched him, amused, but had not been able to stay awake during the second half of the trip.

“Once we retrieve our suitcase, we will have to take a cab and go to the hotel. Our appointment at the Australian Ministry is tomorrow afternoon, so I think we will have enough time to visit Melbourne in the meantime. We should send a letter to your parents, and I promise Lucius I would find him a small _typical_ souvenir from Muggle Australia. I was thinking maybe a boomerang, or maybe a postcard with kangaroos or koalas. Then, when everything is settled with the Ministry, we’ll go find mum and dad just before dinner, give them their memories back and the Healers will ensure that they are fine.”

He just nodded, smiling at her tirade. They had rehearsed the first two days so many times he swore he would remember every step until his last breath. But as it helped Hermione deal with her anxiety, he knew better than to stop her every time they told him about it.

“Let’s find the suitcases first," he said. "The sooner we have them, the sooner I can take a shower.”

Draco had dreamt for months of the Australian beaches and the ever-lasting sun, but as soon as they had left the plane, he had regretted coming. It was hot, and the air dry, and, if not for the sunscreen Hermione had given him before the plane landed, he would have burned as soon as he had been outside.

“Here they are!”

She showed him the two suitcases and he grabbed them, not before discreetly putting a feather charm on both of them.

“I saw what you just did,” she said, annoyed. “Muggles have security cameras; they could have recorded that.”

“Honestly love, the only time they watch those stupid things is when something important happens. I don’t think this is the case,” he retorted. “We are two _normal_ people, about to have a lovely time in Australia.”

She sighed loudly, but said nothing more and led them towards the exit of the airport.

“Take your passport, Draco. They need to verify our identity.”

“Again? They already did it when we boarded the plane!”

“Security measures. It will only take a few minutes, and then we’re free to go wherever we want.”

“The next time we travel, maybe we should take the International Floo,” he told her.

“Don’t you want to take the plane again?” she asked, smiling knowingly. He _had_ been excited to board the plane.

“I want, but for a shorter trip. Maybe France, or Spain. Australia is too far away, and we could have been here yesterday if we had taken the Floo.”

“You were the one insisting we go on the plane!” she said, teasing.

“And I don’t regret it. The crew was fantastic, and I really liked that the captain let me inside of the cabin. But I don’t like sleeping in the air.”

“Draco… we had a suite inside of a _plane_ , don’t tell me you were not comfortable enough!”

When they had bought their tickets, Draco had insisted they took the best seats available. Hermione had paled and the hostess’ smile had broadened, and her boyfriend had been happy to pay twice the price of Mr. Granger’s collection car despite Hermione’s protests.

“I know you don’t like me spending so much money for the trip, but I’m the sole Heir of the Malfoy fortune and trust me when I say Gringotts is not the only bank where we put our money. I am _very_ wealthy, and until I find a way to invest in… _new_ technologies, I’ll do whatever I want with it.”

She had backed down, but not after making him promise to let her choose and pay for the hotel.

“How do you recognize a cab?” he asked her, when they had finally left the airport.

“London cabs have a specific car model, so you can easily recognize them. In Australia, the cars have a small sign on their roof. But as we are in an airport, there should be a dedicated area. We just have to find the sign and to find one.”

“Good.”

The airport was not that big, and it only took them a few minutes to find what they were looking for. What was more difficult, though, was the accent.

“How could you even understand what he was saying?” he asked Hermione, after they had checked in.

“I’m not sure. Maybe the fact that I watched American and Australian movies helped?”

“Maybe. Do you mind if I take the shower first?”

“Not at all. I need to write to Harry to tell him that we’re at the hotel. I’ll post the letter when we go out.”

Draco took his things and went to the minuscule bathroom, where he finally got rid of his clothes before entering the shower and let the hot water run on his tensed muscles.

* * *

“Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger, welcome," a man in his mid-forties told them. " I’m Charlie Smith, we've exchanged letters about the investigation on your parents," he added, talking to Hermione. "And this Olivia Thomas, Chief Healer of the Mind Healing Ward, who will accompany us in order to supervise what you are doing. I hope you had a nice trip?"

"We had, thank you very much," Hermione replied. "Glad to meet you both."

Healer Thomas smiled and took the hand she was presenting, shaking it vigorously.

"I read the notes you sent to Auror Smith, Miss Granger. You really did a fine job with the theory, and I suppose with the practice, so I don't think we will encounter any problems while you and Mr. Malfoy give your parents their memories back. If you don't mind, I'd like to have the contact details of that Healer you talked to when you planned everything. I'd like to talk more in detail about that case you mentioned, that Lockhart man."

Hermione tried to hide her amused smile, and shook the woman's hand politely. 

"If you have a quill and parchment, I'll write everything down," she told her.

She took the quill Auror Smith had had in his inner robes and some parchment Draco handed her and sat down on the chair the Auror had pulled, writing the name and address of the Healer.

"Mr. Malfoy, do you want to sit down?" the Auror asked, pointing to a second chair. "We are just waiting for the Portkey to be activated, and we'll appear directly in the street where the Wilkins leave, disillusioned."

"I don't mind standing, if it's only for a few minutes."

Auror Smith nodded briefly before taking a shoelace from his pocket. Hermione had finished writing a letter for the Healer she had met in St Mungo and got up from her chair to go stand between him and Healer Thomas.

"Five more minutes," she said, looking at her watch.

At last, the Portkey began to glow, and everyone put their hand on it, but not before becoming invisible. A few seconds later, they were standing in a nice street, filled with high trees.

"That's the house we're looking for," Auror Smith told them, pointing at a small cottage with blue shutters. "According to the police report we've been sent; your parents are usually watching the news before dinner."

They discreetly reappeared and Hermione took a deep breath before following the rest of the group. Everyone stopped in front of the door and waited for a few seconds. No sound could be heard from the house. Healer Thomas knocked, and waited. After two long minutes she knocked again, louder this time. She was about to knock a third time when a foreign voice startled them.

"Are you looking for the Wilkins?" An old woman was looking at them from her garden, a watering can in the hand. Hermione nodded. "They left this afternoon. An ambulance took Monica to the hospital and Wendell went with her. Poor woman, the way she screamed…"

Hermione felt her heart stop.

"Screamed…?" she asked weakly, her eyes widening.

"Yes," the woman continued, completely oblivious to her state. "I think poor Wendell was about to pass out. 'Said he could not stand the view of blood."

"Blood?!" Hermione repeated again, horrified. Her throat went dry, and she felt a bit of dread settling on her stomach. Had something happened? Why was her mother bleeding? Was she alright?

"Where is the hospital?" she heard Draco ask, calmly.

"Not far away," the old neighbor answered. "You just follow the street until you see that huge store they built last year – terrible building they did, if only they had kept the one standing there before – and it's five minutes from here on your left. Do you know the Wilkins?" she asked, looking with sudden interest at Hermione. "You have the same accent."

But Hermione had turned around the moment she had heard the direction of the hospital, and did not stop to answer.

* * *

"Monica Wilkins," repeated Hermione for the third time. "She arrived earlier today."

Behind her, she could hear Draco and their two guides talking, quietly. She tried to hide her irritation and stared at the hostess.

"I'm sorry miss, but we don't have any Monica Wilkins here. Are you sure this is the right place?"

"Am I… of _course_ I'm sure. Is there no other building where she could have been sent?"

The woman looked at her, then at the trio standing away from the desk, thinking.

"How long has it been, since you last saw her?"

"I… I don't know" she stammered, disturbed by the sudden change of subject. "Ten months or so."

"Then," the woman said, this time kindlier, "I think you should go ask in the building just in front of this one."

"The…" Hermione stopped and blanched, looking at the name she saw written.

"Hermione," Draco asked quietly, looking at her with concern. "What's a maternity?"

* * *

Hermione stood behind the window, observing her parents for the first time since they had parted. Both of them were tanned, more than she had ever seen them, and were looking proudly at the little bundle between them. Her mother's hair looked greasy, and she seemed exhausted, but smiled warmly at her father, who leaned down to kiss her forehead. A little cry was heard, and both of them smiled, her father taking tenderly the small hand that had appeared between his fingers. Hermione looked at the scene in front of her, trying not to faint from the shock.

"Well," she breathed, a tear rolling down her cheek. "It seems that I'm not an only child anymore."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's over...
> 
> I feel so emotional... I'm really happy so many people read it and liked it (because it was my first fic, and not as good as I wanted it in my opinion), thank you so much for that. Please, tell me what you thought of this entire story :D 
> 
> If you liked this story, you might like my two OS or the fic I'm currently writing. It's not the same thing, really, but it's good (in my opinion, haha).
> 
> I've also updated my profile, and you'll find the summary of the other fics I intend to write one day :)
> 
> Hope to see you soon!  
> Krummbein


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